


Look But Don't Feel

by GlitterGoth114



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Domestic Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Stalking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Surgeons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 121,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterGoth114/pseuds/GlitterGoth114
Summary: Sansa Stark escaped the abuse of Joffrey and fell right into Ramsay's arms. She escaped him with their young daughter, but struggles to make ends meet with her salary working in medical records at Wintertown Hospital. The incredibly surly but well renowned surgeon, Dr. Sandor Clegane, works on level 9 in the burn unit. When Sansa begins to dance to supplement her income, she never expected to run into anyone from the hospital.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 524
Kudos: 530





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sansa had grown used to tuning out Margaery's chirping as she went about her work. She considered the brunette a friend, all things considered, but she personally preferred to focus at work, rather than gossip and flit about as Margaery did. Between Sansa's recent history and her daughter, Lyanna, she didn't have enough brain space to accommodate all of Margaery's gossip, which spanned the entire hospital. 

The first time the large man had appeared at the door to medical records, Sansa had leapt to her feet. She'd knocked over her pencil cup in her rush to greet him, though no words had left her mouth. 

"Sandor!" Margaery had exclaimed as she seemed to glide to the front of the room. "It's been so long I was beginning to think you tired of my company." 

Sansa had watched with attention as Margaery's hands grasped Sandor's elbows. She'd pressed her body against his as she pressed a chaste kiss to his unblemished cheek, before settling herself a respectable distance away. Sansa had noticed, however, that Margaery still held his elbow and her eyes twinkled mischievously. 

"I just need a file, flower girl." The man, Sandor, had grunted in a raspy voice to her. "No need for this display of flattery." 

"Flattery?" Margaery had repeated, a fake look of hurt crossing her face. "Why, I would never, Dr. Clegane. But if a file is all you seek, we would happily oblige." 

Margaery had led this Dr. Clegane to Sansa's desk, where she was hastily collecting pencils from where they'd rolled about on the floor. When she looked up from her undignified position on her hands and knees, Margaery had been regarding Dr. Clegane with a beaming smile, and Dr. Clegane himself was looking down at her with malice. 

"Dear Sansa," Margaery said without tearing her eyes from Dr. Clegane's face. "Would you be ever so kind as to search the name of Dr. Clegane's patient?" 

Sansa had hoisted herself back into her chair and began typing furiously to log herself back into the various hospital databases. 

"Dr. Clegane is the foremost surgeon on the burn unit," Margaery was saying as Sansa scrambled. "But he's been focused lately on research, despite his impressive success rates." 

Sansa had glanced up to see Margaery's hand stroking Dr. Clegane's arm, though he didn't appear to notice her attentions. 

"He used to be down here twice a week for patient records, but now…" Margaery trailed off, her most perfect smile burdening her lips as she gazed upon the huge Dr. Clegane's half disfigured face. 

"Forgive me!" Margaery had giggled after a few moments of Sansa's typing. "Dr. Clegane, this is Sansa Stark. The hospital has hired her on to oversee the day to day operations of patient records while Podrick and I implement our new records system." 

Sansa chanced a look up at the intimidating Dr. Clegane, and flashed her best smile. 

"What was the name of your patient, Dr. Clegane?" She'd asked with as much charm as she could, though the large man's face had not relaxed into a more pleasurable look. 

"Seaworth." Dr. Clegane had grunted at her, and it was all Sansa could do not to flinch at the harshness of his tone. 

"I have Davos Seaworth?" Sansa asked, glancing nervously up at Dr. Clegane. "Is that your patient?" 

"No." Sandor had responded simply. "I'm looking for his son, Mathos." 

Sansa typed again for a moment, then frowned. "I'm very sorry, doctor, I'm not finding any Mathos Seaworth in our records." Margaery was opening her mouth to interject, but Sansa cut across her. "If you could bring me the lads consent and the name of his primary, I would happily request the records for you, Dr. Clegane." 

The tension between the three of them was heavy as Dr. Clegane seemed to size Sansa up. 

"Aye, I'll bring you the consent form." Dr. Clegane said finally, taking a step back from Sansa's desk. 

Margaery had walked him back to the elevator, chattering without response, as Sansa took a deep breath to steady herself. 

"That was Sandor Clegane!" Margaery had hissed later, tugging Sansa's arm and leading her to a dark corner. "Sandor Clegane is the foremost plastic surgeon in Westeros, and he specializes in burn cases." 

"Because of his own burns?" Sansa asked curiously, but Margaery had swatted her hands. 

"Never mention his own burns to him, sweet Sansa." Margaery had whispered. "Rumor has it he won't undergo a graft until the technology exists for him to perform it on himself!" 

Sansa had mused to herself that it must be comforting to burn patients that their doctor carried burn scars himself. However, as Pod told her over a quick lunch in the stacks, many patients remained horrified at a face to face meeting with the embodiment of their worst case scenario. 

"But that's awful!" Sansa had said, looking at Podrick with wide eyes. 

"Aye, that's why the good Dr. Clegane has begun to focus more on research." Pod mused. "Even a hard brute like that must tire of screams and cries at the sight of his poor face." 

Another doctor had brought down Mathos Seaworth's consent forms, and Sansa found herself inexplicably disappointed that Dr. Clegand had not come himself, as he'd implied. She told herself it was just because she had been so embarrassed at their last meeting, crawling around on the floor after escaped pencils.

"Beric!" Margaery had exclaimed at the sight of the new man, gliding toward the one eyed doctor the same way she'd glided toward Dr. Clegane, again holding her body against his as she'd kissed his cheek. 

Sansa had realized in the week or so since that Margaery never addressed the doctors by their proper title, except when introducing them to Sansa. She addressed them by their first name, and always with a peck on the cheek, holding tightly to their arm. 

Sansa had smiled politely every time, offering a handshake whenever Margaery had remembered to introduce her. 

It had been at least a week since Dr. Clegane's presence when the fax machine behind Sansa had begun to squeak. She'd continued her work for a few moments, and then slid her chair over to the ancient machine. Her heart seemed to leap when she saw the name Mathos Seaworth, and she'd closed her eyes to give herself a moment to steady her breathing. 

"What is it, Sansa?" Margaery had called across the large room. 

"Old records." Sansa choked out. "I'll just run these up to the burn unit?" She said, hastily putting a paper clip on Mathos's records. 

"Do hurry." Margaery said after a moment, "and page a nurse if you get lost." 

Sansa clutched the sheaf of paper to her chest as she pressed the '9' on the elevator buttons. She was taken aback a moment when she stepped off the elevator, the overwhelming smells of antiseptic and burnt flesh meeting her nose. 

"Name?" The young redhead at a small desk said gruffly. 

"Sansa Stark." Sansa said slowly, looking around at the beige walls as though they would reveal secrets of the burn floor. 

"You're not listed as a patient visitor, kindly bugger off." The young redhead said with a bored expression. 

"Beg pardon, I'm not here to see a patient." Sansa said, and the redheads eyebrows raised. "I have a patient file for Dr. Clegane."

"Damn well could've led with that!" The redhead laughed after a moment. "I'm Ygritte, I work reception up here to warn off any unwelcome visitors." 

Ygritte smiled menacingly at Sansa, who nodded slightly and smiled, hoping that was an appropriate response. 

"Well come on, now." Ygritte led her through heavy double doors.

The smell of burnt flesh was stronger here, and Sansa suppressed an urge to gag. Ygritte deposited her in an office, promising that Dr. Clegane would be back shortly. 

Sansa sat there, breathing the smell of burnt flesh, hearing cries of torment, and wondered if she should've left her file on Mathos Seaworth with Ygritte at her front desk of sorts.

Before long, Dr. Clegane himself came through the door. He regarded her for a moment before he stumped back behind his desk and sank into the chair there. 

"Who're you?" He asked gruffly. 

"I'm Sansa Stark. From downstairs?" Her voice trailed off as he looked at her questioningly. "I brought the file you needed on Mathos… Mathos Seaworth?" 

Recognition finally flashed across his face, and he wordlessly held out his hand. Sansa handed over the files, knowing she was blushing furiously. 

"And why did the lass overseeing patient records personally come up to level 9 with a patient file?" He asked without looking at her, flicking silently through to pages. 

"I only meant for you to receive your requested documents without delay." Sansa hissed between clenched teeth. "Good day, doctor." She said as she hurried from his office. 

She took the stairs down two levels before she exited the stairwell and called the elevator, worried that he might've followed her. She mentally kicked herself as she waited for the lift. She could've sent an email, or left the file with Ygritte, or even left it on his desk for him to find at his leisure. 

But no, Sansa Stark had waited as though her personally handing over the documents would catch his eye. 

She didn't have time to dwell on her stupidity, however, given her phone rang as she pushed back through the double doors to medical records. She answered as she walked around her desk. 

Sansa swore softly as the woman on the other end informed her of her past due energy bill, and Margaery looked up. 

Sansa dropped into her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. Margaery had crept close enough to hear, so Sansa lowered her voice. 

"Yes, sorry, must've slipped my mind. I can pay half that today." Sansa fumbled with her bag, looking for her wallet. "No, half." 

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut and rested her forehead on her free palm as the woman rattled on about late fees and disconnection notices. 

"Fine, fine." Sansa said, dropping her debit card and pulling out her credit card. 

She could feel Margaery openly watching her now and flushed with embarrassment. 

"Sorry," she mumbled when she set her phone down. "Been tough since the move, things are falling through the cracks." She wiggled her mouse to wake the computer, intent on continuing to focus on work, but saw that updates had started in her brief absence. 

Margaery peered at the screen and then flashed Sansa a dazzling smile. "Let me take you to lunch." She said, reaching across the desk and touching Sansa's hand. 

"Oh no, I have-" 

"I insist! My treat. Come on." Margaery looped her arm through Sansa's and all but dragged her away from her desk. 

Margaery drove them to Hot Pie's Bakery and directed Sansa to a table on the patio. Sansa shifted uncomfortably as she looked at the menu, ordering the cheapest thing on it. 

"You have a daughter, don't you?" Margaery asked after their orders had been placed. 

"Yes," Sansa said, grateful for the distraction. "Lyanna. I named her for my aunt." 

"How old is the little one?" 

"Almost 3." Sansa's stomach clenched with anxiety again as she realized she needed to start planning a party. 

"And her father?" Margaery's face was neutral but Sansa was beginning to feel like she was being interviewed. 

"Not in the picture." Sansa said simply, hoping she could dodge any followup questions on that topic. 

Margaery nodded thoughtfully, and they fell into an uncomfortably silence. Well, Sansa was uncomfortable. Margaery looked perfectly at ease, tapping her manicured nails gently against the table. 

Sansa murmured her thanks as their lunch was delivered, and Margaery changed the subject, telling Sansa all about the emergency room gossip. Sansa nodded along politely. She didn't know any of the people Margaery was talking about. 

Margaery fell silent again as they walked back to her car. It was flashy, Sansa noticed, and wondered fleetingly how Margaery could afford it. 

"Sansa…" Margaery said, glancing at her as she pulled out of the lot. "I hope you're not offended, but there's a club a few of my friends go to on the weekends." 

"I can't afford to go out like that anymore." Sansa forced a chuckle. "Plus finding a babysitter…" she trailed off at the knowing look Margaery flashed at her. 

"It's not that kind of club, darling." She said with a small laugh, reaching across and patting Sansa's knee. "It's a gentleman's club. I dance there one night a week and make almost as much as I do at the hospital." 

Sansa's mouth fell open. "A strip club?" She spluttered. 

"Not exactly," Margaery said with a slight frown. "It's much more tasteful than that, more of a burlesque really." 

Sansa stared at her. 

"Well if you'd like, we can take a long lunch later this week so you can come meet Ros, she owns the club." Margaery said. 

"I don't think I can do that." Sansa stuttered. "I already have enough trouble finding care for Lyanna during the day, I don't think-" 

"I can take care of that." Margaery smoothly cut across her. "My friend Gilly, she used to perform there too but she's pregnant now, quite far along actually. All the girls leave their little ones with her while we work." 

"I can't afford-" Sansa started again. 

"I'll take care of it." Margaery said reassuringly. "Look, it's easy money. You're quite beautiful, and a redhead at that, you'd do wonderfully. Come meet Ros with me tomorrow, and on Saturday, come to the club and see what it's like. We'll find you something to wear, do your hair and makeup, and if you're too uncomfortable, then don't get on stage. No harm done." 

Sansa continued to sit and stare at Margaery, mouth hanging open. 

"Just think about it." Margaery patted her knee again as she parked her car. She turned off the ignition and turned to fully face Sansa. "You can get your daughter in a proper daycare. Catch up on bills, rebuild your savings. You can even do it short term while you get back on your feet." 

Sansa nodded slowly, and Margaery smiled again. Margaery looped her arm back through Sansa's as they walked back into the hospital. 

Margaery set Sansa to finding and printing requested charts, which left Sansa's mind free to wander. 

A burlesque? A gentleman's club? It was positively ridiculous, she decided with a nod to herself. She was an okay-looking woman, she knew, but surely no one in their right mind would pay to watch her dance. Joffrey only liked her with a red nose and tears in her eyes, commenting how she looked like a lost little doe, reminding her that she needed him. Ramsay had preferred her black and blue. Something the two men had in common, she thought bitterly, they both hated when she put on makeup or dressed nicely. 

Podrick was working nearer to her desk than usual, so Sansa had to bide her time to tell Margaery that she would not be meeting Ros. 

It was almost end of day, and Sansa had still not had a moment to speak to Margaery privately. She finally stood and approached her. She had glasses perched on the end of her nose as she read a chart, occasionally jotting notes onto a bright pink post it. 

"Margaery-" 

"Oh Sansa! Look what Podrick and I are working on." Margaery tugged her wrist and Sansa sank into the chair beside her. "We already have the charts digitized, but we can only search by the patient's name or name day. What we're doing now," she tapped the post it, "is adding additional tags and keywords, so that our database can be used for research." 

"How do you mean?" Sansa asked, peering at the pink note but unable to make out Margaery's scribbled notes from her angle. 

"Take this for example," Margaery tapped the chart again with her pen. "Right now, you can only find Shireen Baratheon if you're actively searching for specifically her. When this system is fully implemented, you could search 'greyscale' and find every greyscale patient this hospital has ever treated!" 

Sansa nodded in understanding. "Right now you can't even pull records by the doctor's name? Or when she was treated?" Sansa frowned as she noticed the sections Margaery had highlighted.

"Don't let Maester Alconz hear you talk like that," Margaery dropped her voice to a whisper. "I could barely convince him to let me digitize the charts in the first place, just last year." Sansa gaped. "If he heard you speak ill of his precious hard copies, he's liable to shut down the entire project." 

"Let me help with this." Sansa said after a moment. "Let me go through and add the more basic information. Doctor's names, dates of treatment, and demographics. Then you can focus on just identifying the tags, not stopping to highlight all this basic information." 

"You are positively wonderful, Sansa!" Margaery squeezed Sansa's arm. "Now what did you come to ask me?" Margaery set the chart on her desk and removed her glasses, then leaned slightly towards Sansa. 

Sansa took a deep breath, "I truly appreciate that you thought to look out for me," she began and saw a slight frown crease Margaery's face, "but I really don't think I'm right for… what you suggested." 

"Why's that?" Margaery asked, cocking her head slightly and raising an eyebrow. 

"I…" Sansa hesitated, then lowered her voice. "I have scars and- and stretch marks from my pregnancy…" 

Margaery tutted and then stood. 

"Podrick?" She called across the room. "Would you be a lamb and fetch us a case of copy paper and a new packet of sticky notes from the supply center?" 

Podrick stood and nodded. "Of course, Margaery." 

"And see if they have any of those nice pens, you know the ones I like." She added with her token dazzling smile. 

Podrick gave a little salute and a smile as he left. Margaery watched him go, and then pulled Sansa to her feet. She grasped her hand firmly and led her back towards a corner where they wouldn't be seen from the door. 

Margaery faced her with a stern look, then hiked up the bottom of her skirt and turned a little, brandishing her rear towards Sansa. 

"Margaery!" Sansa gasped. 

"These are stretch marks," Margaery skated her fingers over the silvery lines that followed the curve of her arse, "from when my hips decided it was time to join the party when I was 16." 

Sansa stifled a giggle as Margaery dropped her skirt. 

"And here," Margaery shrugged off her cardigan and presented her upper arm and shoulder, "is from when my sweet brother pushed me off my bike into a chain and barb fence when we were young, because he was jealous that I could peddle faster." 

Sansa stared open mouthed at the jagged and puckered scars along Margaery's arm and shoulder. 

"And here," she lifted the front of her blouse, "is from surgery after my appendix burst 3 years ago." She trailed her fingers down a bright red scar in her abdomen, at least 6 inches long. "And this," Margaery squeezed the soft flesh of her belly between her thumb and fingers, "is because I fucking love cake." 

Sansa laughed, and Margaery followed, adjusting her clothes back into place. 

"Gilly has a gap between her front teeth and scars all over her arms from attempting suicide." Margaery said, taking Sansa's hands. "Myranda can't wear heels after injuring her knees horseback riding, so she dances barefoot. Ros is curvy, and she jiggles, and she has dimples in her arse like a chubby babe, and she's absolutely gorgeous." Margaery pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen from Sansa's ponytail. "And you are a girl next door with troubled eyes and dark secrets. You don't have to be perfect to be beautiful, darling." 

Margaery smiled that dazzling smile, and Sansa felt a lump rise in her throat. 

"Okay. I'll meet Ros." Sansa heard herself say before she could stop herself. 

Margaery squealed and clapped, and Sansa smiled hesitantly. 

"But I need to meet Gilly first. I won't leave my daughter with a stranger." Sansa said. 

"Of course, of course! Why don't you bring little Lyanna to meet her as well? Straight away after work tomorrow. I'll make the call!" Margaery practically skipped back to her desk and scooped up her phone, smiling over her shoulder at Sansa as she, too, left the records hall. 

Sansa took a deep breath and leaned back against a stack of boxes. 

What the fuck did she just do?


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two 

Sansa woke before the sun the next morning. She tried hard to go back to sleep, given how long she'd laid awake the previous night, but finally gave in and climbed from her bed. 

She looked a fright, she noticed as she stepped into the bathroom. Her hair was knotted and she had bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. Sansa groaned audibly and got in the shower. Her heart was pounding hard because of her "lunch plans" with Margaery. She wished that she'd asked more questions about what to expect from this meeting with Ros. Would she ask her to strip off? Make her dance on the stage? Would it be just a conversation? 

Sansa leaned her forehead against the cool tile and let the hot water beat down her back. What did one wear to an interview at a strip club anyways? 

Sansa stepped from the shower and took more time than usual to rub oil and cream through her long hair, and apply moisturizer to her face. The shower had not helped the bags under her eyes. 

She padded back to her room, still wrapped in the towel, and glared into her closet. What could she wear that would be appropriate for the office, but sexy enough for her meeting with Ros? 

She felt like she'd tried on 100 outfits before she came to a decision. She settled on a navy blue sleeveless button-up top, a charcoal gray skirt, and a lighter gray cardigan. She would have to keep the cardigan on all day, to hide the sleeveless top, and she prayed to all the Gods that the records hall would be an acceptable temperature today. 

Then she started all over again with her undergarments. All of her nicer lingerie had either been thrown away by Joffrey as he called her whore, or ripped off her body in fits of rage by Ramsay. 

She shuddered and tried to push them from her mind. In the end she was forced to settle on her sensible cotton briefs and the only push-up bra she owned. 

She donned her selections, and a pair of strappy black heels, and stood in front of her full length mirror. She buttoned the top all the way, put on her cardigan, and added her thick black framed glasses. She wouldn't have normally worn such a high heel to a day of work, but she looked respectable. 

Then she removed the cardigan and glasses, and undid the top 3 buttons to display her cleavage. She tried to make a sultry face, even tossed her hair and did a couple spins, but she felt incredibly foolish. 

She heard Lyanna begin to stir and decided it would have to do, quickly buttoning her top back up as she hurried from the room to start toast for her daughter. 

While Lyanna munched away on the toast, Sansa snuck back into her room. She selected a larger shoulder bag than she normally carried and transferred her wallet, phone, and keys. She put her contacts case in her makeup bag, and added it to her purse. 

At the last minute she changed her shoes back to her normal clunky grey wedges, and stuffed her strappy heels in the bag as well. 

She swept her hair up in her usual high ponytail while Lyanna fussed with her shoes, insisting she could fasten them herself. How had she woken so early and yet STILL they were running late. 

Sansa was panting a little as she lurched into the records hall, silently thanking herself for changing her shoes. Pod glanced up from his work with a smile, and Margaery gave her a knowing wink. 

Sansa sank into her seat, pushing her bag into a corner under her desk. She quickly compiled the charts that had been requested overnight, carefully labeling each with a sticky note that stated the name of the doctor who requested the file, and the suite number where their office was located. 

"These are ready, Pod." Sansa called over to him, giving the stack of requested charts a little pat as she sank back into her chair. 

"I'm so sorry to ask, Sansa, could you run those for me?" Podrick asked with an embarrassed look. "I twisted my ankle playing soccer last night. I think I'll be right in a day or two…" 

"No trouble at all, Pod!" Sansa said with a reassuring smile as she stood, once again thanking her lucky stars that she'd changed shoes. 

Her smile faltered as she left the records hall. She frowned down at the pile of charts in her arms, remembering that several had been requested by Dr. Clegane. 

She pulled Dr. Clegane's requests from the middle of her pile, deciding as she approached the lift that she would drop those off first. She looked down at the pile as she waited for the lift, wondering why Dr. Clegane had requested so many files for this morning. She thumbed through them as she stepped into the elevator. She absent mindedly pushed the button for level 9 as she skimmed the cover page of each chart, noticing that all of the patients were children, none of whom had had corrective surgery for their burns. Sansa hummed thoughtfully, wondering briefly what exactly Dr. Clegane was researching and whether these charts were part of it. 

She fixed her face into a pleasant smile as the lift doors opened, and approached Ygritte with more confidence than she felt. 

"Good morning!" She said cheerfully. "I've just come to drop off these charts for Dr. Clegane." 

Sansa held the stack out towards Ygritte, who grimaced at it and then didn't accept. 

"I won't take those from you," she said with a dark chuckle. "If you don't put them straight in the wankers hand, he's liable to set them down and forget her ever received them." 

"Surely he'd remember if you handed them-" Sansa began pleasingly, but Ygritte cut her off with a very unladylike snort of laughter. 

"Do you remember where his office is?" Ygritte asked as she stood. "I can take you back there if you need." 

"No, I remember." Sansa replied with a forced smile. "Please let him know I'm waiting." 

Sansa scrunched her nose at the smell of burnt flesh; it didn't get any easier no matter how many times she came up here. She'd had no problems leaving charts with Ygritte for Dr. Dondarrion or Dr. Giantsbane. She mused for a moment that perhaps Dr. Clegane got away with his behavior because of his burns; perhaps they simply didn't want to anger the beast and it was less of a fight to appease him. 

She shook the mean thoughts from her head as she rounded the corner to the hall where his office was. He was well known and respected in his field, afterall. Surely his scars had nothing to do with it. 

Sansa reached his office, deciding as she did that she would wait in the hall for him this time. But she peeked inside his office and almost groaned out loud when she saw him sitting at his desk. She leaned against the wall and took a moment to steady herself, then forced her cheerful smile back onto her face. 

"Good morning, Dr. Clegane!" She said, perhaps a little too loud, because he winced. "I have here the charts you requested." 

She looked down at the pile in her arms, trying to separate his from the rest. She saw him lean back in his chair from the corner of her eye. She made a satisfied noise, then held the stack out to him. 

He accepted it silently, immediately dropping them onto the desk and leaning forward to begin to read them. 

"I noticed the theme." Sansa said suddenly, immediately wishing she could take it back as he raised his eyes to her. "The charts you requested were all children who fully recovered without surgery." 

He leaned back a little in his chair, gazing at her steadily. She waited for him to say something, but it appeared he didn't intend to. 

"Are they for your research?" She asked after an uncomfortably long pause. 

"Yes." He replied simply, and she shifted under his gaze. 

"Well," she cleared her throat after another pause. "Sorry to bother you." 

She ducked out of his office and hurried away, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise in her cheeks. She really needed to stop whatever it was that made her want him to think that she was smart and knew what she was talking about. 

When she was safe back in the lift, she said aloud, "next time I will hand him the charts, bid him good day, and leave." 

Surely a brief encounter where she didn't make an idiot of herself was better than a long one filled with intense stares and awkward silences. 

She finished delivering charts without further incident, then decided to pop down to the cafeteria to get a snack for Podrick. She and Margaery would be leaving for lunch (her heart lurched at the thought) and she knew by now that he typically nipped down to the cafe for a drink and a sweet to go with his packed lunch. 

She carefully selected a soda and muffin, then stopped in her tracks when she turned to the checkout. Dr. Clegane stood there, waiting for a cashier to return, holding a cold sandwich and bag of chips. 

He hadn't seemed to notice her, so she quickly walked to a large display of sweets, taking her time to evaluate the pudding, jello, and muffins there. She traded out the banana nut muffin she'd selected for an apple cinnamon, in an attempt to appear casual, and turned back to the checkout, assuming Dr. Clegane would be long gone. 

But of course he wasn't, she thought with a sigh as she approached. She tried to smile politely and then averted her eyes. She felt the silence weigh uncomfortably between them but was determined not to say anything else she might kick herself for later. 

After a few moments, she chanced a glance at him and saw that he was typing furiously into his phone. She relaxed a little, and let her eyes linger over his features. He was quite handsome from this angle, she noticed, with his burns turned away from her. He was scowling, but even with that she could appreciate his thick eyebrows, straight nose, hard cheekbone, and strong jaw. Not to mention his body. This was the first time she'd seen him wearing something other than his normal dark green scrubs, and she couldn't help her eyes raking over his form. His black t-shirt clung perfectly to his every muscle, and she wondered if it was intentional or just because it was hard to find shirts that large. His light wash jeans hung around his hips, held in place with a black leather belt. She could tell that the waist was several sizes too large, to make up for how tall he was. 

She let her eyes travel hungrily back up his body, which could only be described as beautiful, and back over the features of his face again, before she'd realized that he'd turned to face her. She jumped a little when she met his eyes, quickly looking back down at soda and muffin clutched in her hands. 

"Are you done staring then?" He demanded gruffly, and she looked back up at him, her mouth forming wordless replies. 

"Sorry." She finally managed in a cracked whisper.

He scoffed at her and stalked away, leaving her awkwardly with a cashier who'd appeared at some point. The cashier clucked a little, but Sansa forced herself to keep a straight face. She held her head high as she left the cafe, determined not to show how embarrassed she was to be caught staring. 

Podrick looked like he was going to cry when she offered the muffin and soda. She quieted his shouts that he would pay her back when he had coin with him, assuring him with a smile that it was nothing. 

"Sansa," Margaery smoothly ended the interaction as Podrick produced a small knife and insisted upon sharing the muffin. "Did you need to freshen up before lunch?" 

"Oh! Yes. Yes I do." Sansa stammered, quickly retrieving her bag from under her desk. "Are you parked at the same place as yesterday? I'll meet you at the car." 

Sansa hurried from the room as Margaery graciously accepted a bite of muffin from Podrick. This was no time for her thoughts to be occupied with the huge, beautiful, rude Dr. Clegane. She had to focus now. For herself. For Lyanna. 

She found her way to a restroom near the front entrance of the hospital. She quickly shed her cardigan and changed shoes, then removed her glasses and put in her rarely used contacts. She blinked water from her eyes at the now unfamiliar sensation as she pulled the tie from her hair. She brushed out the days tangles, but her hair was kinked now from the tie. She groaned a little as she swept it back up into a high pony, wrapping a section around the cover the tie and pinning it in place. She pulled a few pieces down to frame her face. 

She rushed through applying her makeup. There was no time for a full face, so she brushed a little bronzer and blush to her cheekbones, applied concealer under her eyes, and quickly pulled off a winged eyeliner and mascara. At the last second, she decided to be bold with a dark red lipstick. 

She stood in front of the mirror regarding her appearance for a long moment, then raised her hands to her buttons. She started unbuttoning, and went one farther than she normally would've been comfortable with, so her cleavage was fully on display. 

Sansa stuffed her shoes, cardigan, and glasses case into her bag, and hurried from the restroom before she could chicken out. She caught a few people staring as she made her way to the front entrance, and her confidence grew slightly. 

She kept her shoulders back and chin high, a little sway in her hips, as she exited the building and headed for Margaery's car. Margaery was chatting animatedly with someone Sansa couldn't see as she approached.

As Sansa drew closer, Margaery looked her way and whooped loudly in an appreciative fashion. Sansa grinned and did a little spin with a giggle as she came around the bed of the truck parked next to Margaery's car, then froze in her tracks. 

Leaning against the truck were Dr. Clegane and Dr. Dondarrion. Sansa flushed and ducked her head but she knew it was too late. 

"Praise be to the Seven!" Margaery was exclaiming. "You look simply wonderful, darling!" 

Dr. Dondarrion had taken her hand and led her to spin again, then dropped to his knees in front of her. "The Lord of Light might've ended my life and brought me back, and I would still not believe the sight in front of me," he said dramatically, then pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Run away with me, my love." 

Sansa flushed harder and giggled nervously, glancing at Margaery for help. 

"Oh stop, Beric! You're embarrassing the poor thing!" Margaery said, followed by her high, tinkling laugh. 

Beric bowed his head solemnly then rose to his feet, kissing her hand again before releasing her. 

"What do you think, Sandor?" Margaery had slunk closer to Dr. Clegane, threading her hand through his arm, though she beamed at Sansa. 

Sansa smiled nervously at him, hunching her shoulders forward a little. 

"I think you'd be tired of each other after spending day after day cooped up together in that fucking basement." Sandor said with a grunt, though his eyes were scanning over her body. 

Margaery gave him a playful push to the chest. "You're awful, Sandor!" She exclaimed. "Don't you think she looks marvelous?" 

There was a long silence. Sansa shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze, but Margaery and Dr. Dondarrion both looked expectantly at Dr. Clegane. 

"Aye." He said finally with a little nod. "The little bird is quite pretty." 

Sansa exhaled hard through her nose, a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. 

"Well we must be off!" Margaery said after another moment. She kissed Dr. Clegane's unblemished cheek again, offered her hand to Dr. Dondarrion, who grasped it dramatically and kissed her knuckles, then turned to get into her car. 

Sansa gave them what she hoped was a polite smile and nod, then quickly sunk into Margaery's passenger seat. 

"The little bird is quite pretty." Margaery repeated in a teasing tone once they'd left the hospital grounds. 

"Stop!" Sansa whined, burying her face in her hands. 

"That's high praise from Sandor!" Margaery exclaimed. "Practically a declaration of love." She sounded amused and Sansa groaned in response. 

"No, Margaery, you don't understand!" Sansa was still whining. "I saw him, not even half an hour ago, in the cafe! I was waiting on line to pay for Podrick's muffin and he caught me staring." 

Margaery stiffened a little. "Sandor caught you staring at his scars?" She asked in a carefully light tone. 

"No!" Sansa said quickly. "No, not at his scars. At his…" she trailed off into incoherent mumbles. 

Margaery looked amused. "Beg pardon," she said, stifling laughter, "but Sandor caught you ogling his glorious body?" 

Sansa whined wordlessly and buried her face back in her hands. 

"And then you appeared before him," Margaery was definitely choking back laughter now, "looking like the Maiden incarnate. And somehow, YOU'RE embarrassed?" 

Margaery gave her an incredulous look as they stopped at an intersection. 

"Stop, Margaery!" Sansa whined. "It wasn't like that!" 

"Oh sweet girl." Margaery sighed, shaking her head as the light turned green. "You should feel flattered, not embarrassed." She gave Sansa a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Beric is dramatic, but he wouldn't have done all that if he wasn't positively enraptured. And Sandor… well anything more than a noncommittal grunt is highest praise." 

"You think so?" Sansa asked in a small voice. 

"I know so!" Margaery said, reaching over to squeeze her knee. "If you looked like this every day, I wouldn't even be able to gossip with you, because you'd be all anyone talked about." 

Sansa calmed a little at that. She knew Margaery took her gossip very seriously.

"Thank you, Margaery." Sansa whispered in a small voice. 

"Enough of that now." Margaery said dismissively. "Pull yourself together, we're almost there." 

Margaery parked in a mostly empty lot. Sansa couldn't quite read the sign on the front of the building, since it wasn't illuminated, but thought it said 'Lost Ones'. 

Margaery gave her a quick once over, smoothing Sansa's hair and adjusting her skirt, then led her inside. 

The club was dark and quiet. Sansa took in the stage, a silver pole in the middle that stretched floor to ceiling, before she realized that anyone was watching them. 

She smiled politely as Margaery let her to the bar, where two men and a woman sat. 

"Sansa, I'd like you to meet Barristan and Jorah. They serve as bodyguards-slash-bouncers when the club is open." Margaery beamed at the men, who both smiled and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "Anyone steps wrong, you just let one of them know, and they'll take care of it." 

Margaery turned her smile to Sansa, who tried to return it genuinely as she sized up the men in front of her. They both seemed a tad old to be guarding anyone, but Sansa did not voice this opinion. 

"And this…" Margaery led her a few steps farther, until a young redhead with wild curly hair came into view, "is Ros." 

Ros leaned forward and took one of Sansa's hands in both of hers. 

"Lovely to meet you, sweetling." Ros said in a husky voice. "I'm so glad your nerves didn't get the better of you." 

Sansa glanced at Margaery, who winked. 

"Come along, darling. Let's have a chat." Ros stood from her stool and led Sansa around the left side of the stage. 

Margaery smiled reassuringly at Sansa, then took Ros's vacated seat and began conversing with the two men. 

Ros led her back to a small office. Sansa noticed as she did that her hips swayed invitingly with every step. She was wearing a simple t-shirt and skinny jeans, but Sansa could tell she had an amazing figure. 

Ros motioned for Sansa to sit, and then poured two glasses of wine. 

"Now then," Ros began, setting one glass in front of Sansa, "Margaery has told me you're a bit shy." 

Ros had sunk into her chair and was regarding Sansa with a look that was somehow both piercing and relaxed. 

"I, um. I suppose." Sansa said after a moment. 

"You are quite beautiful, as Margaery said," Ros mused, "and while we can all appreciate a lass that's a little shy, I can't put a girl on my stage that will simply huddle on herself." 

Sansa closed her eyes and twisted her fingers together on her lap. She took a deep breath, set her resolve, then forced herself to meet Ros's inquiring gaze. 

"To be perfectly honest," Sansa began, and she noticed Ros raised her eyebrows slightly, "I'm just weeks out of an abusive relationship." Sansa shuddered internally at the words. "I don't feel like a beautiful girl right now. But I know how to pretend, and I know that I would do anything for my daughter to have a better life." 

Sansa and Ros regarded each other silently for a few moments. 

"Very well." Ros said softly. "Sansa, I want you to stand up, remove your blouse and skirt. Then come over here and pretend for me." 

Sansa took a steadying breath, then rose to her feet. She swayed her hips slightly as she unbuttoned her top. She let it hang loose for a moment as she lowered the zipper on her skirt. She walked slowly but confidently around Ros's desk, then turned her back to her and pushed her skirt down to her ankles, crouching along with it. She rose slowly, then stepped out of the pooled skirt. She swayed her hips a little, and felt Ros stroke her hip gently. Sansa rolled her shoulders back to let her top fall, and shot what she hoped was a seductive look over her shoulder at Ros.

Sansa summoned all her courage. She swept her ponytail over her shoulder and unclasped her bra, then shimmied her shoulders until the straps fell. She dropped garment. and finally turned to face Ros, letting her hands glide over her own body and rolling her head back with a soft moan. 

Sansa took a confident step forward and braced her hands against the armrests of Ros's chair, sticking her chest in her face, then put her weight on her arms to lift herself into a straddling position on Ros's lap. Sansa leaned into Ros, as Ros's hands came up to her waist and then slid down her hips and cupped her bottom. Sansa leaned down to graze her teeth over the shell of Ros's ear, then leaned back a little to meet the womans gaze. 

"Very good." Ros breathed, giving Sansa's rear a gentle squeeze. "Stand up and get dressed."

Sansa hurriedly complied, flushing a little about what she'd just done, and didn't meet Ros's gaze until she was sitting back across from her. 

"Margaery tells me you're just looking at one night a week?" Ros asked casually, as though nothing abnormal had happened. 

"Yes." Sansa replied quickly. 

Ros tutted for a moment over a schedule book. "I hate to ask, darling, but do you have something more suitable to wear?" 

Sansa ducked her head. "I don't…" she whispered. "My ex, he… got rid of all my nicer things… said if he wanted to be with a whore, he'd go buy one." 

Ros reached across the table and covered Sansa's hand, causing her to look up. 

"If they didn't buy it, we wouldn't sell it." She said in a serious voice, and Sansa smiled a little. 

Ros stood and walked to her bookshelf, producing a small purse from seemingly nowhere. She placed 5 silver stags on the desk in front of Sansa. 

"Take these and go buy yourself a thing or two to wear." Ros said, leaning against the desk. "You'll make that back easily on your first night, but I'll allow you until the end of your 3rd to pay me back in full." 

Sansa nodded, carefully sweeping the silver into her hands. 

"Take Margaery with you, if you can. She'll help you pick out the kinds of things you'll need." Ros smiled down at her. 

"Thank you." Sansa whispered, holding back tears. 

"Go on, sweet girl." Ros dismissed her, and Sansa hurried from the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Margaery spun around as Sansa walked back towards the bar, and immediately grinned. 

"I knew she'd love you!" Margaery said triumphantly, leaping to her feet and pulling Sansa into a hug. 

Sansa's heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest. "I'm so nervous." She whispered to Margaery as they embraced. 

Margaery withdrew and rubbed Sansa's arms reassuringly. "You'll do great!" She tried to assure her. "In a few weeks, you won't be able to believe you were ever this nervous." 

Sansa tried to return her smile. 

"Jorah and Barristan are joining us for lunch," Margaery said, turning back to the men. "There's a pub across the street, their fish and chips are to die for." 

Sansa started to object, but Margaery hushed her with a look. 

They walked across the street together to a pub called Iron Price. Sansa nervously followed as the other three walked confidently past the 'please wait to be seated' sign and settled themselves at a table. 

A woman with blunt features and lank brown hair appeared from the back and approached them with a smirk. 

"Bit early for a working girl, innit?" The woman asked as she approached, eyes on Margaery. 

"Don't take that tone just because I won't let you order off menu, Yara." Margaery said with a playful smile, stroking the woman's arm. 

"Aye, well if I can't order off menu, neither can you." Yara braced her hand on the table and leaned down toward Margaery. 

"Stop, please, I yield." Margaery said with a fake look of fear, though her voice was still playful. 

Yara grinned at her, then stood straight again. "The usual for you lot?" She asked, looking towards the men, both of whom nodded in acknowledgement. "And what for you, darling?" 

Yara pointed at Sansa with her chin, and Sansa was distinctly sure that she didn't say 'darling' in the motherly way that Ros had. 

"Um…" Sansa looked around for a menu, feeling her cheeks get hot. 

"Fish and chips." Margaery said knowingly, laying a hand over Sansa's. 

"Fish and chips." Sansa repeated, attempting a smile at Yara. "And water, please." 

"No, have a drink!" Margaery urged. "Barristan's treat." She winked at the older man. 

Sansa turned to him for approval, and he nodded with a small smile. 

"Do you have a red sour?" Sansa asked, looking back to Yara. 

"Aye, but I'd rather not give a beautiful girl Dornish swill unless she insists." Yara smirked and Sansa blushed. "I have a dry red from the Arbor I've been saving for a special occasion." Yara winked at Sansa and strutted back to the kitchen door. 

"If men could talk the way lesbians do, I'd be up to my elbows in blushing women." Barristan shook his head sadly, then smiled at Sansa. 

"Oh stop," Margaery said with a gentle slap to Barristan's arm, then turned to Sansa. "A lot of us come here after the club closes," she explained, "Yara comes to the club every so often as well, so be nice." 

Margaery and the men chatted while they waited for their drinks, which Yara delivered within minutes. Yara looked at Sansa expectantly as she set down her wine, so Sansa took a sip. 

"Better than any Dornish swill I've ever had." Sansa grinned. 

"Finally a woman with taste!" Yara said with a small smile, then looked back at Margaery. "Maybe she'll have the good sense to cast the menu aside." 

Margaery winked, and Yara retreated again to the kitchen. 

"So," Margaery turned back to Sansa, "our lovely bouncers always take the new girls out for lunch before they start." 

Sansa flashed a confused look across the table. 

"Our job is to keep you girls safe," Jorah explained. "We can't very well do that if you're not comfortable approaching us and speaking plainly." 

"That's very nice of you." Sansa said with a smile. "So how exactly does it work? What are the club rules?" 

"Well Ros is a whore," Barristan started, but stopped as Margaery slapped his arm again. 

"Escort." She corrected sternly, then turned back to Sansa. "Ros doesn't really give a damn what you do. It's up to you to set your own boundaries and make them known to your customers." 

"How?" Sansa asked, feeling anxiety twist her stomach. 

"Don't be nervous, Sansa!" Margaery squeezed her arm and gave a reassuring smile. "When a customer wants a dance, you'll take them to a private room, collect payment, and then just sit and chat until the song is over, so they get a full song with you. During that chat, you can ask their name, introduce yourself, and then just say it like it's their first lap dance." 

"I don't really understand." Sansa admitted with a blush. 

The men glanced at each other with a knowing smile, which made Sansa's stomach twist further, then Margaery took her hand. 

"Well hello," she said in a sultry voice. "I didn't notice how handsome you are until just now." Margaery gave Sansa's body a quick once over and then shivered dramatically. 

"That doesn't actually work." Sansa objected incredulously, but Margaery squeezed her hand to silence her. 

"And what could a man like you possibly want with a girl like me?" Margaery ran her fingers up and down the back of Sansa's hand. "They're usually pretty straightforward," she said in her normal voice, then resumed her seductive look like nothing happened. "Well my name is Myranda. You can touch me if you like, but stay above the waist like a good boy." Margaery touched Sansa's nose playfully and tossed her hair, then grinned and took a sip of her drink. 

"I thought you said there was a dancer named Myranda?" Sansa asked after a moment. 

"Oh there is." Margaery said loftily, taking another sip of her drink as Barristan snorted. 

"Margaery and Myranda had themselves a little cat fight back with Myranda first started." Jorah told Sansa. 

"She took advantage of Podrick." Margaery said, and Sansa's eyes snapped back to her. 

"Podrick?" She squeaked. 

"Oh yes, did I forget to mention? Our DJ, Tyrion, took Pod under his wing to teach him how to DJ. Calls him his squire." Margaery rolled her eyes and the men laughed.

"What he really wants is to know what Podrick does in bed to make those girls fawn over him the way they do." Barristan said with a chuckle. 

Sansa had many questions she wanted to ask at that moment, but Margaery continued before she could. 

"Well, Tyrion was quite hungover and asked Pod to cover for him, just a couple of weeks after he first started." A dark look crossed Margaery's face. "And that little whore Myranda asked Pod to play one of MY songs while SHE was on stage." 

Sansa's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"It's an unwritten rule." Jorah told her. "There's a lot of etiquette between the performers, a mutual respect. One of those rules is don't use another girl's song without asking her." 

"She asked and I said no." Margaery resumed her lofty voice. "Then the conniving little wench went behind my back and tricked Pod." 

"The girls have a way of getting back at each other when they break the code," Jorah said with a smile. "Sweet Margaery went to Ros the next day and informed her of her name change." 

Sansa's mouth dropped open and she looked at Margaery in disbelief. Margaery gave her an innocent smile, then burst into laughter when Sansa looked alarmed. 

"What are the other unwritten rules?" Sansa asked softly. 

"Oh most of them are common sense, darling. Don't use another girl's songs, don't reveal her true name, don't approach one of her regulars before she does," Margaery ticked them off on her fingers. 

Sansa still felt quite nervous, and Barristan gave her a reassuring smile. "You seem like a very polite girl," he told her, "if you're thinking about doing something that might piss off one of the other girls, just ask Margaery or one of us first. Use your head and you'll be fine." He patted Sansa's hand reassuringly. 

"But how will I know if someone is one of the other girls regulars?" 

"Calm yourself, sweetling." Margaery said. "The other girls will point them out to you, and until then, just ask when you approach someone if they're waiting for someone else." 

"You just ask them?" Sansa asked incredulously. 

"I do hate the sight of you sitting there alone," Margaery's sultry voice was back. "Would you like some company or are you waiting for one of my friends?" 

"There's so much to learn." Sansa said softly. 

"You're a natural." Margaery assured her. "And I'll be here to help." 

Yara appeared at that moment with their food and Jorah changed the subject. Sansa was careful about how much she revealed to the men, but she did tell them that she had a daughter and worked with Margaery at the hospital. 

The club didn't come up again as they ate, but Sansa did learn that Jorah was from the North, but spent many years in Pentos, where he learned to speak Dothraki. Barristan had been a bodyguard when he was young, and had coached in fencing and archery when he grew older. 

"Graduated to a bouncer when one of my students bested me in a fencing match." Barristan recalled with a laugh. "If you can't put them on their arse, you have no business trying to teach them anything." 

Sansa was laughing and chatting easily with them by the time they finished their meal. The men bickered briefly over who's turn it was to pay before Barristan slapped a gold dragon on the table. 

"I do love old Selmy's turn." Yara said with a playful punch to Barristan's shoulder as she collected the coin and their empty glasses. 

"Use the change to buy a dance from this one." Barristan jerked his thumb at Sansa. "She's nervous as all hells." 

"Barristan!" Margaery chided with a smile. "Yara is my regular!" 

"Yara is the regular of anyone with a nice ass." Barristan said sharply, though he eyes twinkled as he grinned. 

Yara laughed with them, then nodded to Sansa. "Aye, just one dance with the new girl, then I'm all yours." She finished with a smile at Margaery before she walked away. 

Margaery bid the men farewell back outside the club, giving each of them a hug. Sansa followed suit. 

"Thank you for this." Sansa said with a genuine smile as she stepped back. "I really do appreciate it." 

The men waved her off and went back inside the club, and Sansa followed Margaery back to her car. They drove in silence for a few minutes, Sansa's head reeling. 

"So…?" Margaery asked finally. 

"I'm overwhelmed." Sansa admitted. "It might take a few days for everything to sink in." 

Margaery gave her a reassuring smile and patted her knee, then let them fall back into silence. Sansa was mulling everything over trying to make some sense of it, when she suddenly gasped and smacked Margaery's arm with the back of her hand. 

"You didn't tell me that Podrick works there too?" Samsa demanded, though she wasn't exactly angry. 

Margaery's look of sudden alarm turned to one of amusement. "It truly didn't occur to me." Margaery explained. "Pod is a very respectful young man, you'll barely notice he's there. He acts more like an extra bouncer than a DJ anyways." 

Sansa huffed a little and crossed her arms. "So he knew exactly what we were doing at lunch today?" 

"Well yes." Margaery admitted with a sheepish smile. "He had actually told me during your first week that he thought you'd do well with Ros." 

Sansa gasped dramatically. 

"Oh hush now," Margaery gave her knee a gentle slap. "He didn't mean it like THAT, Podrick… he genuinely doesn't seem to be interested in any of the dancers, though they certainly seem interested in him." She gave a knowing smile but Sansa couldn't form a coherent followup question. 

They were almost back to the hospital before Sansa remembered her appearance. She seized her bag from the back seat and quickly changed her shoes. She pulled out a makeup removing cloth and Margaery started to object, but Sansa was already scrubbing her face clean. She waited until Margaery stopped the car before trying to remove her contacts, and quickly put her thick framed black glasses on. 

Margaery sighed and shook her head as she got out of the car. Sansa followed, pulling her cardigan back on as they walked back to the hospital's main entrance. 

Podrick looked up expectantly as they came through the doors. 

"She was wonderful!" Margaery told him, squeezing his shoulder as she passed the spot where he was sitting. 

Podrick smiled at her, then turned back to the stack of papers in his hands. Sansa sank back into her chair, quickly signing back into her computer and beginning the simple data entry for Margaery. They had agreed that she should catalogue gender, the doctor, dates of treatment, and whether the patient survived. 

It was a couple hours later when Dr. Giantsbane marched through the doors. 

"Good afternoon, Dr. Giantsbane." Sansa said politely, smiling at him as she swiveled her chair to face him. "What chart are you looking for?" 

He stared down at her a moment, then said, "I'm not looking for a chart, girl. I came to see the lass that Beric and Sandor fawned over this afternoon." 

Sansa blushed hard and looked down, breathing a silent sigh of relief when Margaery swept over to rescue her. 

"Oh Tormund, Beric did fall over himself at Sansa this afternoon," Margaery said with a smile. "I was simply taking her to meet a friend over lunch, and he tried to whisk her away!" 

Margaery smiled at Sansa, who tried to return it. 

"Forgive me for saying so," Dr. Giantsbane said as he turned back to Sansa, "as lovely as you look every day, I'm not seeing the difference that Dondarrion and Clegane spoke of." 

"The silly thing took off her makeup and changed her clothes before we got back." Margaery laughed, giving Sansa a subtle wink. "Beric AND Sandor, you say?" 

Sansa wanted to crawl beneath her desk at Margaery's question, feeling her face grow hotter. 

"Oh yes." Dr. Giantsbane said gravely. "Beric went on about his Lord of Light and being reborn again." 

"And what did Sandor say?" Margaery asked casually, though Sansa knew it was nothing but. 

"Oh, our dear Sandor Clegane described her as 'very pretty.' His highest praise." 

Margaery grinned triumphantly at Sansa, who couldn't resist dropping her face into her hands. She didn't register anything significant as Margaery led Dr. Giantsbane back to the door, but she did notice Pod smiling down at his work when she lifted her face. 

She attempted to focus back on her work for the remainder of the day, but knew that she had nothing significant to show for it. 

Before she knew it, Margaery had collected her from her desk and led her away, guided helplessly by Margaery's arm. 

Everything was a blur as the pair retrieved Lyanna's car seat from Margaery's car, retrieved Lyanna from Arya, and headed for Gilly's house. 

Sansa took a deep breath as they stopped in front of Gilly's house, and Margaery gave her a reassuring pat on the leg. 

By the time Sansa had unbuckled Lyanna from her car seat, Margaery stood on the front porch, chatting with, Sansa assumed, Gilly herself. Sansa walked up the path and both girls turned to smile at them. 

"This must be sweet Lyanna!" Gilly cooed, sweeping Lyanna from Sansa's arms. Sansa noticed that Gilly's belly was quite large with her pregnancy. 

"Why don't Lyanna and Little Sam play for a moment while the grownups chat?" Margaery suggested. 

Gilly smiled widely, then turned to a little boy Sansa had not yet noticed, clutching Gilly's leg. 

"Sam, will you show Lyanna your dragon toys?" Gilly asked, crouching down to meet Little Sam's eye. 

"Dragons!" Little Sam cheered, jumping up and down. "Here, Lee-nuh!" 

The kids ran into the house, and Gilly cradled her belly as she watched them go with a smile. 

The women chatted on the porch for a few minutes, and Sansa knew instantly that Gilly could be trusted. 

"Could you look after Lyanna for a bit tonight?" Sansa asked after a few minutes. "Margaery and I need to do a bit of shopping." 

"Of course." Gilly assured her with a smile. "Dinner's almost ready, she'll be ready for bed when you come back." 

Margaery was gleeful as she drove Sansa to a store she assured her would be amazing. When the girls came through the door, Sansa saw a pensive looking woman with dark red hair sitting behind the counter. 

"Good evening, Melisandre." Margaery greeted her, then pulled Sansa by the wrist into a back corner.

They were safely looking at lingerie when Margaery leaned toward Sansa's ear. 

"Melisandre is a little odd." She whispered. "She follows the Lord of Light, like Beric, and she'll occasionally make grand predictions." 

Margaery giggled and Sansa smiled, turning her focus back to the rack in front of them. 

They eventually selected a few items, and Margaery led a flushed Sansa back to Melisandre to check out. 

Melisandre didn't make any comments as she rang up their selections, but she seized Sansa's wrist as she took the bag. 

"Sweet child," Melisandre said, a faraway look on her face. "You'll have to face your worst fear in the coming weeks." 

Sansa looked at Melisandre with an alarmed look, but Margaery merely looked bored. 

"But you'll find facing your fears is more rewarding than any other experience of your life." Melisandre released her wrist and Margaery hurried from the shop. 

"I told you she was odd." Margaery said knowingly as they got in the car, and Sansa attempted a smile. 

Margaery took Sansa back to the hospital, and waited as Sansa reinstalled the car seat into her own car. 

"Well then, have a good night! See you in the morning!" Margaery called as she drove away. 

As promised, Lyanna was asleep when Sansa returned to retrieve her from Gilly. Gilly briefly introduced Sansa to her husband, who was captivated by a large book and his dinner, but he managed to give her a kind smile before focusing back on the book. 

"I don't think I asked earlier, what is your fee?" Sansa asked when they reached the porch. 

"A silver per night," Gilly told her, "but I'll feed them dinner, do bedtime, breakfast, and keep them until midday. So you can go out for a drink, or get some sleep, whatever you need to do, and pick up the babe later." 

Sansa stuttered a little, and Gilly motioned for her to walk down the drive. Gilly hovered silently as Sansa buckled Lyanna into her seat and shut the door. 

"I worked for Ros," Gilly said when Sansa turned to face her, "and I understand the realities of the business. It's a silver per night, whether one day or all seven, and I value discretion. The other girls will only know if they recognize Lyanna, or you tell them yourself." 

"Thank you, Gilly." Sansa smiled at her. 

"My only request is that you let me know if anything changes. I'm happy to keep your babe all night and into the morning, but if you're going to be late, let me know so I don't worry." 

"Of course!" Sansa agreed. 

She hugged Gilly and then got in her car. Her mind still raced as she returned home. She carefully deposited Lyanna in her bed, then came back outside to retrieve her shopping bags. She laid everything out on her bed, and then sighed heavily. She sat on the end of the bed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

What was she thinking? She'd allowed this fantasy to take life, and she shivered at the thought of the things she'd committed herself to do. 

Only until you pay Ros back, Sansa reminded herself sternly. Once she paid Ros back her five silvers, Sansa could walk away, no harm done. 

Sansa began to pack the garments away again, but stopped at a pale pink set that Margaery had insisted on. She quickly stripped off and put them on, then turned to the mirror. 

Sansa was shocked at her reflection. She could see herself there, yes, but the pale pink lingerie dragged her attention. She could see the outline of her nipples poking out through the bra, and the panties clung perfectly to the swell of her hip. Did a little spin in front of the mirror, then stopped to gulp a little. 

She stood in front of the mirror for a long moment, then set her face in a pristine smile. 

"Alexa," she said softly, "play 'Bad Pussy' by Tyrene Sand." 

The device in the corner beeped and repeated her request before the song began to play. 

Sansa began to dance in spite of herself, swaying her hips to the beat. She grew more confident the longer the song played, spinning and crouching, shaking her arse and tossing her hair. 

Sansa sank onto the end of her bed as the song ended. Her heart was pounding again, but she was excited now. Like Margaery said, she was a girl next door with troubled eyes and a dark secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there, slowly but surely! Hope you enjoyed and please comment and let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's first night at the club!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one of the longest chapters I've ever written for anything in my life, so sorry if you don't like that, and you're welcome if you do like that. Enjoy!

Chapter Four

Sansa's nerves were a rollercoaster over the next couple of days. Margaery had insisted on Sansa's first night at the club being a Friday, so Sansa couldn't chicken out. 

Sansa had packed and repacked her small backpack several times, unsure of what exactly she would need or what she would wear. She eventually decided to bring all the things she and Margaery had picked out at the store, as well as her makeup bag, curling iron, and hairspray. 

She threw the bag in her trunk after she buckled in Lyanna, and tried to steady her breathing a little before she began to drive. Lyanna seemed oblivious to Sansa's nerves, chatting excitedly from her seat about the other cars. 

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled in Arya's driveway and saw her sister was waiting outside. Arya quickly approached and extracted the squealing Lyanna from her seat. 

"Thanks a million!" Sansa called at Arya's retreating back. 

"You're late!" Arya called her her shoulder with a smirk. 

Sansa looked at her watch and cursed quietly, throwing her car into reverse and peeling out. She caught more traffic than usual on the way to the hospital, and Sansa bounced anxiously in her seat, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. Sitting in traffic gave her time to think, and she was anxious enough already. 

When she finally got to the records hall, Podrick and Margaery both looked up. 

"Told you she was coming." Pod teased. 

"I was beginning to think you were so nervous you weren't going to come at all!" Margaery laughed. 

Sansa tried to smile but was sure it came out as more of a grimace as she dropped into her chair. 

The day seemed to fly by, and it was lunchtime before she knew it. When her stomach began to growl, she reached for her bag only to realize she'd left her lunch on the kitchen counter. 

She stood and excused herself and went down to the cafeteria. She was beginning to feel a little queasy with nerves, but she'd already skipped breakfast. She couldn't skip lunch too. She selected a cold sandwich and turned to the cash registers. 

She swore to herself. There he was again, standing near the register, and she was already an anxious mess. Sansa straightened her back and marched forward.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Clegane." She said with a polite smile, then averted her eyes. 

There was silence for a moment, then he spoke and Sansa jumped at the noise.

"The theme you noticed…" he was looking down at her with piercing eyes. 

Sansa blinked up at him, her mind having gone completely blank. 

"The files from the other day?" The corner of his mouth twitched. 

"Oh!" Sansa suddenly remembered, and then immediately flushed at the memory of how she'd embarrassed herself. "Yes. Um. What about it?" 

"That wasn't why I pulled those charts." His face was completely unreadable, so Sansa focused on his eyes, which she noticed now were a deep grey color. "I knew they were all kids, kids heal faster. I requested those because they were from the same year, kids I had personally treated." 

He paused for a moment, like he was giving her a chance to respond. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she simply nodded. 

"You were right, none of them required corrective surgery or grafts. I think I've sorted out why, and if I'm right, it'll blow my research wide open." He broke her gaze and fished a small notebook out of his pocket, then plucked a pen from the breast pocket of his crisp black button down shirt. 

Sansa caught herself beginning to examine his body again and quickly stopped herself, focusing instead on his hands as he scribbled on the pad. His hands were huge, she noticed as she looked, and she almost groaned out loud at her inability to focus on anything but his looks. 

Dr. Clegane ripped the page out of his little pad and held it out to Sansa. It was a second before she reacted, then she almost dropped her sandwich as she took the paper from him. He shook his head at her and rolled his eyes. 

"Tell flower girl to add these medications to her list of tags, and set aside any case with a nurse by the name of Talisa." He said, then abruptly turned away from her as the cashier approached. 

"What is it that you're researching?" Sansa asked after a long pause as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket and picked up his items. 

He gave her a long look, then said, "Burns." And walked away. 

Sansa sighed and stepped forward to purchase her sandwich, and hurried back to the records hall. She picked at her sandwich all day, managing to eat half of it before the end of the day. 

Podrick shot her a playful wink as he left and said "see you tonight." 

Sansa gulped. Margaery appeared next to Sansa's desk, purse on her shoulder. 

"Sansa darling?" Margaery said after a moment. "Are you alright?" 

Sansa took a deep breath and then stood, determined to give this dancing thing a chance. 

For Lyanna, she kept reminding herself. I'm doing this for Lyanna.

Margaery led her out of the hospital and Sansa transferred the car seat and bag from her own car to Margaery's. Sansa was relieved to find that Arya had run to the store when she arrived to pick up Lyanna. Arya would've had nosy questions about Margaery, and while Gendry gave Margaery and her flashy car a curious look, he didn't pry.

Sansa was shaking with nerves the entire drive to drop Lyanna with Gilly. Lyanna ran with little Sam into the house as Sansa thanked Gilly, and then they were off again. 

"Sansa, you have got to calm down." Margaery said. "You're going to do fine if you can just relax." 

Sansa nodded, taking deep breaths to try to calm herself. "I think I need a drink." 

Margaery laughed and nodded. She took her back to Iron Price and they sat at the bar this time. A young man with brown hair and an unshaven face was polishing glasses behind the bar. 

"What'll it be?" He asked with a little smirk as he approached. 

"Shots." Margaery said decisively. "Wildling Whiskey." 

"Her first night?" He asked with a smirk as he set to glasses on the bar, nodding towards Sansa. 

"Is it that obvious?" Sansa asked with a little groan. 

"First ones on me." He said as he poured their shots, then one for himself. "Cheers." 

They drank, and the man placed his own glass back below the bar and poured another for Sansa and Margaery.

"I'm Theon," he said, offering his hand. 

"Alayne." Sansa said, shaking his hand, and Margaery shot her a look. 

"Well good luck tonight, Alayne. I'm sure you'll do well." 

He left the bottle on the counter with a wink at Margaery, and walked back to the end of the bar to resume his polishing. 

"Alayne?" Margaery asked softly. 

Sansa took another shot before she answered. "It was the name I used while I traveled back to the North." 

"Why did you travel under a different name?" Margaery asked, filling Sansa's cup again and then drinking from her own. 

Sansa hesitated, tracing the edge of the cup with her pinky finger, then sighed. "I was leaving my ex. He had a very powerful family and I didn't want him to be able to follow me." 

Margaery sighed and gave Sansa's hand a sympathetic pat. "Lyanna's father?" She asked after a moment. 

"No." Sansa said, then took her 3rd shot. "Lyanna's father was a whole different kind of evil." 

"Well you're safe now, yes? And the babe. That's all that matters." Margaery said after a moment, squeezing Sansa's hand. 

"Yes." Sansa said with a hesitant smile. "We're safe now." 

"One more?" Margaery lifted the bottle, and Sansa nodded, grateful that Margaery let the subject drop. 

Margaery paid for their drinks, and they walked across the street together. The club wasn't open yet, so Margaery took her around the back of the building and let them in through a different door. 

"Hello Ros!" Margaery chirped to the older woman. "I brought Sansa." 

Sansa smiled, much more relaxed now with a little alcohol in her system. Ros returned her smile and left them alone. 

Margaery quickly began to unpack Sansa's bag, setting up her hair and makeup supplies. She laughed upon seeing that Sansa had brought all of the lingerie they'd bought before. 

"Okay first things first." Margaery said with a little clap, then grabbed Sansa by the wrist and pulled her out of the little dressing room. "We have lockers over here, you can put your things in mine for now if Ros doesn't have an extra lock on hand. Our toilets are over here, don't use the public one." Margaery led her through a black curtain and they came out next to the stage, on the opposite side from where Ros's office was. Sansa noticed the steps to the stage were right outside the curtain. Margaery pointed to a bottle and white cloth at the top of the steps. "This is sanitizer for the pole, just put a couple sprays on the rag and give it a once over before you start to dance. And over here…" Margaery led her halfway down the room, through another curtain, "this is where we do lap dances." 

Sansa looked at the bench that ran the length of the building. "In front of all the other girls and customers?" Sansa asked nervously. 

"No one will be paying attention to you besides your client." Margaery assured her, then led her down the little hallway back in the direction of the dressing rooms. "Back here are private rooms." Margaery said as they came through another curtain. "It's one silver for a dance, two for a private dance, one gold dragon for a private room for the night." Margaery ticked off. "Once you have regulars, you have the option of letting them 'buy you out' for the night for 5 gold dragons. They'll take you for a drink and then to a hotel usually, but you can always say no." 

"But what happens if you go and they…" Sansa trailed off, her brows furrowed. 

Margaery rubbed her arm reassuringly. "Well, you would only ever leave with a regular, a client that you have a bit more of a relationship with, one that you trust. But if you ever find yourself in a dangerous situation, just get a hold of someone here. Tyrion has a friend, Bronn, he'll come any time anywhere to get one of us girls out of a hairy spot. Ros has him on retainer." 

Sansa nodded and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. 

Margaery showed her the private rooms, which were basically the size of a walk-in closet. All of them were dimly lit with twinkly lights and tulle, a couch against one wall and a mirror covering the other. The rooms were quite cozy, and Margaery showed her the remote control on each of the little corner tables that controlled the volume of music and the lights, and showed her what looked like a power button, but would actually alert Jorah and Barristan at the front door to come check in. 

Margaery pushed the button to demonstrate, and about 20 seconds later, Jorah burst through the door. 

"Seven fucking hells, Margaery!" He said, leaning back against the wall. "I didn't know anyone was here yet, you scared the fuck out of me." 

"Sorry, Jorah! I just wanted to demonstrate for Sansa." Margaery said, rubbing Jorah's arm soothingly, then beckoning Sansa to follow her out of the room. 

"The bar serves beer, wine, and non alcoholic drinks. No hard liquor, and if anyone is drunk we can have them removed." Margaery waved her hand toward the bar and then led her back to the dressing room. "At the end of the night, give Ros twenty percent of your nights earnings, and she tips out security and DJs so we don't have to do the math." 

Margaery opened her locker and pulled out a little black clutch and handed it to Sansa. 

"I got this for you, bring it back here when you go onstage, and carry it with you out on the floor, for your payment." Margaery told her. "There's little dishes on the stage for them to tip while you dance. Pod or Tyrion collect between girls, so come straight to them after you get off the stage." Margaery took a step back and looked Sansa up and down. "What are we doing for your hair and makeup, darling?" 

"I thought big and curly, and then dark makeup. I want to look completely different than normal, so I won't be recognized." Sansa said. 

Margaery nodded thoughtfully, and the girls set about curling Sansa's thick, waist length hair. They were almost done when a girl with white blonde hair walked in. She had a motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm and was shaking out her hair. 

"Hello Daenerys!" Margaery called to her, and she replied with a little wave. "This is Alayne, it's her first night." 

Daenerys stripped off her dragon skin jacket and dropped it on the back of a chair, then walked over. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Alayne." She offered her hand and Sansa accepted, smiling a little. "Try not to be nervous, and let me know if you need anything. Are we taking her to Iron Price after close?" Daenerys aimed the question at Margaery. 

"Oh yes." Margaery said gravely, winking at Sansa. "She's already had a few shots courtesy of Theon."

Daenerys smiled at Margaery, then back down at Sansa. "I have a flask if you need a little more to get on stage." She said. 

Daenerys went to her locker for her makeup bag, then returned to her seat. Margaery turned Sansa away from the mirror and applied her makeup. She tutted and slapped Sansa's hands when Sansa wanted to peek, and Daenerys looked amused as she wound her hair into intricate braids. 

Other girls started to arrive, and most of them came to introduce themselves before settling down to get ready. She met Shae, Missandei, Osha, Doreah, and Meera. A very pretty girl with long dark hair came in and walked straight by everyone. She gave Sansa a nasty look, but otherwise didn't stop. 

"That's Myranda." Margaery whispered. "Or Emma when she's here. She never talks to anyone." 

Sansa simply nodded, unable to think of any response. Margaery finally turned Sasa to face the mirror and the other girls looked around curiously. 

Sansa gasped. "Margaery, how did you do this?" She had smoky black around her eyes, dark red lips, and her features seemed sharper. 

"It's called contouring, sweetling." Margaery said, and the girls all chuckled a little. "I think you should wear the pale pink." She added, and Sansa stood to retrieve the lingerie from her bag. 

"Where should I change?" She asked. 

Margaery looked around pointedly, and Sansa noticed that all the girls were in various stages of undress. 

"Oh…" Sansa ducked her head and Margaery chuckled. 

"Oh sweetling…" Margaery said, taking Sansa's arm and leading her to the lou. "Change in a stall if you like, but you'll have seen everyone's tits by the time the night is over, and they yours, so there's no need to worry about changing in front of each other." 

Margaery swept out of the room, and Sansa went into a stall. She took a few deep breaths, then began to strip off. She put on her lacy pale pink lingerie, and a pair of strappy white heels Margaery had picked out. She took another steadying breath and left the stall. 

The girls all whooped and cheered when Sansa came back into the room and she blushed. She did a little spin again, laughing as the girls dramatically fell over themselves and fawned. 

Margaery and Daenerys picked through their own jewelry for Sansa to wear. Their selections were all gold; wrist bangles, hoop earrings, and a simple heart shaped locket. Shae then offered her a lacy white coverup to wear on top. When Sansa turned back to the mirror, she smiled. 

"Thank you." She said, turning back to Margaery and Daenerys, and nodding to Shae, who was back in her seat applying her own makeup.

They waved her off, all smiling broadly. 

"Ros wanted you to come by her office," Margaery told her as she began to strip off her clothes, like it was perfectly normal to do so in front of Sansa. "Then go see Tyrion about your song choices." 

Sansa nodded, pulling the cover around herself instinctively as she left the dressing room. She nodded slightly to Podrick as she passed him and a blonde man in the DJ booth, and he gave her a reassuring smile and winked. Sansa hurried down the hall to Ros's office and knocked on the doorframe as she entered. 

"Hello darling." Ros smiled at her, then came around her desk. "Let me have a look." 

Sansa let the cover fall down her arms and laid it over the edge of a chair, then did a little spin for Ros. 

"You'll do great here." Ros said, squeezing Sansa's hands. "Now, have you settled on a name?" She asked as she returned to her seat. 

"Yes," Sansa said. "Alayne." 

"That suits this innocent motif you have going perfectly." Ros said, making a note on her pad. "Has Margaery talked to you about how things work here?" 

"Yes, she showed me around and talked to me about tip outs, and she told me to ask her before I do anything that might piss someone off." 

Ros threw her head back and laughed. "Yes, that is the short version. So just remember, call the girls by their stage names all the time so you don't slip in front of a customer. Jorah and Barristan are here for a reason, don't hesitate to go to them or call their names if you need to." 

Sansa nodded, taking deep breaths. Ros surveyed her for a moment, then pulled out a bottle of Wildling Whiskey and two glasses. 

"I don't typically condone working under the influence," Ros said as she poured a generous amount into each of the glasses, "but all the girls need some liquid courage on their first night." 

Sansa accepted the offered glass with a smile and drank. "Thank you." She said. 

"My door is always open, but do you have any questions now before your first night?" Ros asked, taking a long sip from her own glass. 

Sansa hesitated. "I do have one…" Sansa said slowly. "There was a comment Barristan made, and then Gilly alluded to the same." She paused again, taking another drink while she mulled over how to tastefully ask her question. 

"Selmy called me a whore, didn't he?" Ros said with a laugh. 

"Well, um, yes." Sansa stuttered, and Ros shook her head a little. 

"Remember what I told you the other day? If someone is willing to buy it, more power to you if you sell it. That being said, we can't provide the same level of protection if you meet customers outside of the club. We can send Bronn to try and help, but you could very well already be hurt by the time he gets there, so do be very careful." Ros said. 

"But you really allow us to sell… anything?" Sansa asked slowly. 

"You are allowed to do whatever you're comfortable with." Ros said. "If a customer pays for your company for the evening, it's up to you what you spend your time doing. If you decide to let a regular fuck you, it's up to you what you charge for that, but there's nothing the club can do to legally protect you. That's not the purpose of the club, and prostitution isn't exactly an insurable business. If you decide to go that route, you're on your own save help from Bronn." 

Sansa nodded, taking another drink. 

"I've written my number and Bronn's on this card," Ros slid it across the desk to her. "Put them in your phone when you get back to the dressing room, and if you're going to meet clients outside of these walls, I encourage you to memorize Bronn's number, just in case." Ros shuffled with some papers, then pushed some across to Sansa. "This form will be locked in a safe as soon as you're done, and no one but me, Bronn, or the police will ever see it. You can fill out as much or as little as you like, but this basically gives us permission to look for you if something goes wrong." 

Sansa looked over the papers, her anxiety mounting significantly as she read over the questions. 

'How long shall we go without hearing from you before you would consider yourself missing?' 

'Who may we contact to determine your safety and whereabouts if you are missing? May we tell them the nature of the business?' 

'Which dancers may we use your legal name with to ascertain your safety?' 

Ros reached across the table to touch Sansa's hand, and she jumped. 

"Don't get anxious about all this." Ros said. "There's only been once that I had to open one of these files, and the girl was perfectly fine; she'd just left town in a rush after her mother was in an accident and forgot her phone. But, Bronn found her easily within a day because of the information she put here. I'm not even going to look at it before I put it away, discretion is of the utmost importance in this business." 

Sansa nodded slowly and began to fill out the forms. Ros poured her a bit more whiskey, and Sansa smiled her thanks as she took a sip. She worked with Margaery and Gilly was watching her daughter, she reminded herself. It would quickly be noticed if anything was amiss. 

"Can I list Gilly here?" Sansa asked, pointing to the question about which dancers knew her legal name. 

"Of course." Ros said. "I assume you have a little one?" 

"Yes, a girl. Almost 3." Sansa flashed a smile at Ros as she continued down the form. "Her name is Lyanna." 

"I bet she's beautiful. Redhead, like you?" Ros asked. 

Sansa stiffened. It was just small talk, she knew, but any reminder of her daughter's resemblance to Ramsay made her feel sick. 

"No." Sansa said finally. "She has my eyes, and her father's hair. Dark, curly." 

Ros seemed to understand that that was a sensitive topic and let it drop, quickly diving into asking about Lyanna's favorite colors and animals. Sansa relaxed as she told Ros about Lyanna, how much she loved anything pink, and her obsession with bunnies. 

"Once she's a little older, I may get her a pet rabbit." Sansa said. "She would die of happiness." 

Sansa hesitated over the question about emergency contacts. She'd hoped that she wouldn't have to tell any of her family about this venture into the land of sex work, but surely she should give a heads up to her emergency contacts. 

Ros seemed to notice. "What's the matter, darling?" 

"I, um. I want to list my sister and cousin here," she tapped the page, "but I was hoping not to tell my family about this… this." 

"Ah, I understand." Ros said. "Well why don't you simply note that the first time we call, we'll say we're from the hospital. We'll only tell them about the club if we can't locate you." 

Sansa sighed in relief and quickly scribbled down Arya and Jon's contact information. She signed the paper and pushed it back across the table to Ros. Ros lifted it and as she made to slide the paperwork into the orange envelope, she gasped a little and then laid the forms down on her desk face down. 

"I'm sorry, I know I said I wouldn't look, but did I see… Jon Snow is one of your emergency contacts?" Ros asked curiously. 

"Yes." Sansa said slowly after a moment. "He's my cousin. Lyanna is named for his mother." 

Ros hummed softly and put the papers in the folder and sealed it. 

"It's none of my business," Ros said as she pressed the sticky side of the envelope flap down, "but perhaps your daughter's appearance comes from Lord Snow? He has dark and curly hair too, afterall. Seems quite likely to me that sweet Lyanna's hair could just as much be from Jon as anyone else." 

Sansa felt tears spring to her eyes. She blinked hard, willing them not to spill and ruin all Margaery's work. Sansa reached across the table this time and squeezed Ros's hand. 

"Thank you." She whispered. "You're right, her hair comes from Jon." 

Ros gave her a little smile and squeezed her hand back. 

"Alright, enough of that." Ros said after a moment. "Finish your drink, and I'll walk you back out." 

Sansa downed the last of her whiskey and rose to her feet, quickly swinging the cover back over her shoulders and following Ros out of her office. 

"Alayne, this is Tyrion and Podrick." Ros said as they reached the DJ booth. 

They each extended their hand, and Pod gave no inclination that he'd ever met Sansa before. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Alayne." Tyrion said. He slid off his chair and came out of the booth, and Sansa was surprised to see that he was a dwarf. "Any ideas for your songs yet?" 

"Um, I did have a few ideas," Sansa said, "the list is in my bag." 

"You'll get it in a moment," Ros said, giving her arm a gentle tug. "This is Bronn." She said as they approached the bar. "He doesn't usually come sit at the club, but I wanted to introduce you." 

"Alayne." Sansa said with a smile as she shook his hand. 

"Aye, it's a pleasure." Bronn said as he turned to fully face Sansa, leaning against the bar. "Hope you don't mind if I buy a dance later," his eyes scanned over her body. "Nothing breaks the ice quite like having tits in your face." 

Ros gave Bronn's arm a little slap and frowned at him. "It's her first night, Bronn." 

"Aye, and may be the only time I meet her until I have to place myself between her and some violent cunt. Best if I see her tits now, I think." Bronn smirked at Ros, who continued to frown. Bronn turned back to Sansa and took her hand again. "Finding lost girls and delivering them home is what I get paid for. Killing the violent sons of whores who would lay a hand on such a pretty girl, I do for free." He kissed her knuckles and released her hand. 

"Don't listen to him," Ros told Sansa as she tugged her away. "I trust you've met Jorah and Barristan?" Ros asked as they approached the men, who were standing by the front entrance. 

"Yes," Sansa said, giving them each a quick hug. "They took me to lunch after I met with you." 

"Excellent, I do appreciate how they do that. What Bronn lacks in respect, these two make up for tenfold." Ros said with a smile. "Keep a closer eye on her tonight please," Ros instructed the men. "Make sure she's being treated well by our guests." 

The men both nodded and bade Sansa good luck with her first day, and Ros led her back to the dressing room. 

"Bronn is a crude man who says anything that comes to mind," Ros said softly, "but I do assure you that he will dedicate every ounce of his strength to locating and protecting you if anything should happen." 

Sansa nodded. The whiskey that Ros had offered was making her fingers and toes tingle, and she felt quite relaxed. 

Ros brought her back to the dressing room, and Margaery and Daenerys quickly approached. 

"Feeling alright?" Margaery asked, laying her hand on Sansa's shoulder. 

"Yes, I think so." Sansa said. 

"Myranda and Daenerys will look after you," Ros said, and Sansa did a double take before she remembered that Margaery went by Myranda here. "As will I, and our gentlemen. Do expect Bronn to pay for a dance later," Ros said, and Margaery and Daenerys both laughed and nodded, "and I'll take your song list to Tyrion." 

Sansa fumbled with her bag for a moment, then handed Ros the folded paper. Ros unfolded it, and Margaery and Daenerys leaned in on either side of Ros to look. 

"You're going to dance to Bad Pussy?" Margaery said, eyes wide. 

Daenerys gave her an impressed look and quietly returned to her own station. 

"These songs are perfect." Ros said with a grin. "I'll give the list to Tyrion. Stay back here until we put you on stage, once we have some customers. Podrick will come warn you when it's almost time." 

Ros swept away, and left Margaery staring at her slightly indignantly. "You misled me." Margaery said. "You had me thinking you were just a boring little girl, and all along you've had a bad pussy." 

Sansa blushed hard and resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands as Margaery winked and turned away to put the finishing touches on her makeup. 

Sansa looked around at the other girls. Margaery wore pale blue barely there lingerie and let her curly hair hang loose down her back. Daenerys was wearing all white, to match her hair, and had a huge tattoo of three dragons down one of her legs, from hip to ankle. Meera wore simple, neutral lingerie, but had fur on top for her cover up. Missandei wore all gold. 

Sansa sat nervously as the music began and the girls began to filter out of the dressing room. 

"And now the Dragon Mother herself, from all the way across the Narrow Sea, please welcome Daenerys Stormborn to our stage!" Sansa heard Tyrion's voice, and Daenerys handed her the flask as she swept past. 

Sansa clutched it for a moment, then heard footsteps. She looked up as Podrick appeared, an easy smile on his face. 

"You're next." He said simply. 

Sansa quickly unscrewed the cap for the flask and drank deeply. Pod sat on the chair next to her. 

"Don't be nervous." He offered quietly. "I can only imagine how nerve wracking this must be for you girls, I'm no help there. But I can say, Sansa, that you are absolutely gorgeous. You could walk out there and stand still on the edge of the stage, and everyone here would still be enraptured." 

Sansa turned her head to look at him questioningly. He gave her a reassuring smile, then motioned for her to take another drink. 

"Just try to have fun." He advised. "Tune them out. Forget the customers are here, forget that the staff is here. Just dance like you would if you were safe at home with no one watching." 

Sansa nodded and took another drink. Pod sat with her while they listened to Daenerys's songs. The second one came to an end, and Sansa rose shakily to her feet. Pod stood as well and offered his arm, which Sansa seized instantly, taking deep breaths to steady herself and squeezing her eyes shut. 

"One more drink." Pod advised, and Sansa quickly obliged, drinking deeply from the flask. She set it down and Pod led her down the hall until they stood just behind the curtain. 

"You're alright." Pod squeezed her hand. "You're gorgeous, they'll love you." 

Sansa nodded stiffly, gulping a little. Pod reached for her and nudged her chin a little so she looked at him. 

"If you get scared, just look at the DJ booth. Tyrion will be drooling and I'll give you a thumbs up. Something to look at besides all those random faces." He smiled easily at her, Sansa realizing at that moment that she hadn't noticed his eyes drifting from her face once. 

"Thank you, Pod." She whispered, and he squeezed her hand again. 

"And now, gentlemen and… more gentlemen… and one lady, I see you over there…" Tyrion's voice rang and Sansa couldn't help giggling a little, "please welcome, for the very first time, the wonderful, the gorgeous, the very sweet Alayne!" 

Sansa took a deep breath and stepped forward. She and Podrick came through the curtain, and Pod tugged her elbow so she fell back against him for a moment. 

"Safe at home with no one watching." He reminded her, then gave her an encouraging push to the stairs. 

Sansa swept up the cloth and sprayed the sanitizer on it before she moved to the pole. Bad Pussy began to play, and Sansa silently cursed herself for a moment. She gave the pole a quick wipe down, as Margaery had described, and tossed the rag back toward the stairs. 

She couldn't really make out anything in the crowd, due to the lights pointed at her, and she began to dance. Like Podrick suggested, like she was home alone with no one watching. After a moment she swept off Shae's lacy cover, tossing it too towards the back of the stage. She was encouraged by a few cheers, though she suspected it might've been Margaery and Daenerys. 

She hardly touched the pole during her first song. She grabbed it occasionally to steady herself as she spun or tossed her hair, but she mostly forgot it was there. 

Bad Pussy ended, and Sansa found herself crouched in front of the pole with her back to the front entrance, breathing hard as she waited for the next song. She chanced a glance over her shoulder and, as promised, Pod flashed her a thumbs up. 

Her second song started, Lemon Cakes by Wolves at Night, this song slower than the first. Sansa took a deep breath and glanced again at Pod, who gave her a quick nod to remind her. Like you're at home and no one is watching. 

Sansa began to move to the slow beat, focusing entirely on that, but using the pole more this time. She spun and shook, bent and snapped, rose and dipped, pushing from her mind the fact that people were watching, strangers and friends, and lost herself in the music. She couldn't let the doubt and insecurity show now, she just had to keep moving, keep swaying, keep shaking. The song finally ended and she did a low dip with the pole for support, throwing her hair back as she did. 

There were whoops and applause for a moment, then she heard Tyrion. 

"Well there you have it, gentlemen and one lady, the beautiful and quite seductive Lady Alayne!" 

Sansa did another spin as she retreated, quickly scooping up her cover from Shae and ducking back into the dressing room. She stood frozen to the spot, clutching Shae's lacy cover against her chest. 

What did she just do? What was she playing at? This was ridiculous, she told herself again. What if she knew someone who had seen her up there making a total fool of herself? 

Then Margaery and Daenerys bounded into the room, jumping and squealing. Sansa barely had time to register before both girls were hugging her. 

"They were all looking at you-" 

"So sexy, Alayne, I don't think-" 

"The way your hips swayed! They all saw-" 

"And you didn't even take off your-" 

"But you're so gorgeous, it's to be expected-" 

Sansa hushed them, taking one of their hands in each of hers. They quieted and Sansa took a deep breath, then whispered, "I looked good?" 

Margaery and Daenerys exploded again, yelling about how everyone had been staring at her, how they'd all been asking about her, how they all talked about her. 

Then Pod appeared at the door, holding a dish, and the girls quieted. 

"Your tips, Lady Alayne." Pod said as he dumped the little vase out in front of her. 

Sansa gasped, running her fingers over the pile of coppers and silvers. 

"Nevermind that!" Margaery urged. "Get out there! Give some dances." 

Sansa and Margaery swept her pile of coppers into a little jar and tucked it safely into Margaery's locker. 

Margaery and Daenerys each took one of Sansa's arms and pulled her out to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way according to the internet, 56 coppers = 1 silver. 216 silvers = 1 gold. I don't know if that's totally accurate, but that's the conversion I'm basing things on. Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a few weeks since Sansa's first night, and as promised, she wasn't so nervous anymore. Yara had bought a dance on her first night, and Bronn, but since then, it had all been strangers. 

And also as promised, Sansa consistently made as much at the club in one night as she did at the hospital in a week. She, Margaery, and Podrick never discussed their other work when they were at hospital, though it weighed heavy on Sansa's mind. 

Sansa had managed in four weeks to pay back Ros, catch up her bills, and enroll Lyanna in a proper pre-school. Arya had asked a few nosy questions about how she was managing to get back on her feet, but Sansa had dodged them by saying she got a raise at the hospital. 

She knew her little sister didn't fully believe her, but she didn't want to admit to her family what she had really started to do. She imagined that perhaps she would admit it one day when they all had grandchildren, what she had done to secure Lyanna's future. But even then, Sansa shuddered to think what Jon and Arya would say about her working for an establishment like Lost Ones. 

She was relieved at least that she was no longer a bundle of nerves before taking the stage. She had been practicing a few moves on the pole and was gaining confidence. 

At the hospital, however, nothing had changed. She'd been on the lookout for an opportunity to ask Dr. Clegane if her observation truly had helped his research, but she had found none. Even when she'd volunteered to bring up another set of charts to his office, she'd found him standing in the hall outside his door with Dr. Dondarrion or Dr. Giantsbane. Dr. Clegane would take her offered charts without sparing her a glance, and she'd shrink away as he resumed his conversation as though she'd never been there. 

Once or twice she'd thought she caught his eyes scanning over her body, but decided she must've imagined it when he either didn't acknowledge her, or gave her a snarl and asked if she needed something else. 

Margaery had assured her that Dr. Clegane acted like that with her too, and it was nothing personal, but it still chewed at Sansa's insides. She knew she'd acted like a fool during their first few meetings, but surely he wouldn't hold it against her that she was flustered. 

As the weeks dragged on, she settled upon the conclusion that somehow it was personal. He didn't like HER. And she wasn't going to fight that if he'd made up his mind about her so easily. There were hundreds of people in this hospital, she told herself, what did it matter if one stupid surgeon detested her? 

But try as she might to not care, she still found her eyes lingering on him, still jumped at the chance to deliver old charts to his office, and still found herself a spluttering fool in the rare moments where it was appropriate for her to say something. 

"He doesn't hate you." Margaery sounded almost bored as she shed her work clothes and folded them into her bag, standing naked beside Sansa. 

"Then why does he look at me like that?" Sansa countered, dropping her jeans and underpants. "He looks at me like I've just kicked his puppy and told him the cafe is going to stop selling cold sandwiches." 

Margaery hummed softly, pulling on her set of pale green lingerie. "Sweet girl, you could kick his puppy and starve him to death, and that man still couldn't hate you." 

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked. She'd lost her sense of modesty and now stood naked before Margaery, hands on her hips. 

"Darling, you are beautiful." Margaery said simply as she ran her fingers through her long brown tresses. "A man like that, a man with such prominent scars, he would never hate you for the way you look." 

"It's something else then." Sansa insisted as she donned a new navy blue set she'd bought the night before. "How's this color?" 

"Perfect." 

"I don't know what I did," Sansa continued as she applied her lipstick. "And I don't think he hates me for… the way I look. But I did something, and he hates me because of it." 

Margaery sighed. "Put him from your mind, dear. Whether he hates you or not, he's not here, and you can't waste your time focusing on him while you need to be dancing. 

Sansa frowned at Margaery, who gave her a dazzling grin, then bounced out of the dressing room. Sansa quickly put in place silver jewelry to match her navy lingerie, then followed Margaery. 

She let her eyes drift over the customers, and walked as always to the front to greet Jorah and Barristan. She stopped at the DJ booth on her way back, and Tyrion's eyes sparkled with mischief as he told her she was on next. 

Sansa laughed a little, but took the stage as he introduced her. She still danced to Bad Pussy first, then a second song with a slower beat. She had continued to follow Podrick's advice, and danced every night like she was home alone with no one watching her. 

As her first song ended, she saw two men near the entrance. One with red hair, and the other with an eyepatch. Her breath caught, but she tried to force the anxiety away as she began to dance to her second song. She kept stealing peeks at them, and by the time her song ended, the men were taking seats at a small table. It was Dr. Giantsbane and Dr. Dondarrion. 

"Feast your eyes for one more moment on sweet Alayne!" Tyrion called as she left the stage. 

She ducked back into the dressing room, and saw that Margaery sat there chatting with Shae. 

"Myranda." Sansa hissed, and Margaery looked up. "Dr. Giantsbane and Dr. Dondarrion have just arrived." 

Margaery looked concerned for a moment, then laughed. "Don't fret, sweet Alayne. They probably won't notice either of us." 

Sansa gaped down at her, but Margaery had turned back to her conversation with Shae. 

Sansa was panting a little, but decided the best thing to do was pretend she hadn't noticed them either. She strutted back out of the dressing room and went straight for the DJ booth, sweeping her tips into her little clutch. 

A man approached her for a dance, and she happily obliged, leading him behind the curtain to settle on the hard bench. She had many customers that night, and didn't realize how much time had passed until she was finishing a dance and heard Tyrion begin to introduce her. 

She swore to herself, fastening her shoes back on. 

"Please welcome sweet Alayne!" 

Sansa was still struggling with her shoes, and made the hasty decision not to refasten her bra. She could hear confused murmurs as her song played but no one took the stage. 

She finally got her shoes right and exited the little hallway, walking quickly toward the stage. As soon as she was there, she dropped her bra and began to dance. It was her first time dancing on stage without a bra, but she found it surprisingly empowering. She could see with a glance that she had every man's attention as she spun and danced. 

She relaxed for a moment against the pole between songs, and glanced to Pod in the DJ booth. He winked at her and grinned, and she smiled back broadly. Her second song began, and she let her eyes sweep over the customers close to the stage again. She noticed that a third man had joined Dr. Giantsbane and Dr. Dondarrion, but couldn't quite see who he was as she twirled. She kept glancing to their corner, but the third man's face was hidden in shadow. 

Her song ended while she was on her knees towards the front of the stage and tossed her hair back dramatically. The third man leaned forward as he flicked a coin from his hand. She met his gaze and her heart stopped. 

Dr. Clegane had joined the group. 

Sansa was frozen for a moment, then quickly rolled over to her feet, gracefully exiting the stage. She bent to pick up her bra and looked over her shoulder, noticing as she did that the coin Dr. Clegane had flicked onstage was a gold dragon. 

Sansa had rushed backstage to tell Margaery, but she'd appeared more interested in the gossip than the fact that three of their colleagues sat in the corner of the club where they danced naked for money. Sansa took a long drink of Daenerys's Wilding Whiskey, then walked briskly from the dressing room, pointedly not looking into their corner as she approached a different customer. She normally would've immediately approached someone who tipped a gold dragon while she danced, but she was too worried about being recognized. 

She was quickly approached and led an unfamiliar man to the bench as Daenerys took the stage. She glanced to the doctors corner, and they all seemed fixed on Daenerys. 

Sansa breathed a small sigh of relief. She managed to stay busy with private dances, hoping that the doctors wouldn't stay long, but before she knew it, she heard her own name being called again. This time she didn't even bother with her shoes as she took her stage. 

She didn't want to meet Dr. Clegane's gaze again, afraid he would realize who she was, but she couldn't seem to stop her frequent glances into their corner. Dr. Giantsbane and Dr. Dondarrion seemed deep in conversation, but she saw Dr. Clegane's eyes follow her. 

Her songs finally ended and she did a little spin and hair flick, then collected her discarded items and hurried into the dressing room. 

He had been watching her, she knew it now. But blank as his face always was, she had no idea if he'd recognized her. She sat in the dressing room while she caught her breath, took another swing of Daenerys's whiskey, then got her shoes, bra, and cover up back in place. She took a few steadying breaths, then rose and headed back to the floor. Margaery was on stage now, and Sansa pulled a copper from her clutch and flicked onto the stage with a wink. 

Sansa thought she'd just barely made it past the doctors when she felt a hand on her elbow. She held her breath and turned, and saw that the hand on her elbow belonged to Dr. Clegane. 

She composed her face and sauntered a step forward, then did a slow spin in front of him. 

"See something you like?" She asked in a sultry voice, still not knowing whether he'd recognized her. 

"Aye," he responded simply, his eyes raking up and down her scantily clad body. 

She stepped closer again so that her legs were on either side of one of his muscular thighs, just barely not touching him. She braced her hands on the ledge behind him and leaned close. 

"What'll it be then?" She whispered in his ear, then leaned back a little to meet his gaze. 

He held it steadily, then opened one of his huge hands, revealing two gold dragons. Sansa almost gulped but managed to hide her hesitation. She stepped back and offered her hand, which he took hesitantly, then rose to his feet. 

She led him through the curtains into the hallway with the bench, down to the end, and through the other curtain. She walked into one of the rooms, turning to look at him as he hesitated in the doorway. She waited a long moment, but he didn't enter. 

"Is the room not to your liking?" She asked hesitantly. 

He shook his head looking slightly confused. Sansa decided to be bold, and stepped forward to take his hands, which hung limply at his sides. He had to duck as she led him through the doorway, and she released his hands to push the door shut. 

She leaned back against it and looked at him. He still had a slightly confused look, and now looked quite uncomfortable as well. 

"Why did you bring me back here?" He rasped after a moment, finally meeting her gaze again. 

Sansa stared at him for a moment, more confused than he was. 

"Do you not know what a gold dragon buys here?" She asked after a moment, with genuine curiosity. 

Anger flashed across his face, and Sansa quickly crossed the small space and placed her hands against his chest, guiding him to sit on the couch. 

"One gold dragon," she whispered as she shed her cover up, "buys my company for the rest of the night." She unhooked her bra and let it drop to the floor, then moved slowly to sit beside him on the couch. "Two gold dragons," she continued as she unbuckled her shoes, "buys my very enthusiastic company for the rest of the night." She straddled him, now clad only in her navy blue thong. "Were you aware that that was what you were purchasing this evening?" 

He laid his hands hesitantly against her hips, then looked back up into her face before slowly shaking his head. 

Sansa felt a little squeeze in her heart at the look he gave her, like he expected her to shrink away from him in disgust any second. She wanted to just give him a big hug, but resisted as she gazed onto his face. 

"Knowing that," she said slowly, "if all you'd like is a dance, that's just a silver." 

He held her gaze for a moment, then placed his two gold dragons on the little side table. He looked back at her, and she leaned into him again so she was right up against his good ear. 

"How would you like to spend our time together this evening?" She whispered, then dragged her teeth down the shell of his ear, just as she'd done to Ros in her interview of sorts. 

His body tensed and he groaned softly, then moved his hands up to her arms, grasping firmly and pushing her away enough that he could look into her face. 

"Dance for me." He whispered hoarsely. 

She smiled and raised off his lap, dancing silently for the span of several songs as he just sat there and watched. As a fourth song started, she sauntered over to him. She pressed the front of her legs into his knees and continued to sway her hips. 

"What's your name?" She asked softly. 

"Sandor." He replied after a moment. 

"Sandor…" Sansa hummed, then smiled at him. "My name is Alayne. Is there anything else you'd like, Sandor? Besides me dancing for you?" 

He grunted a little, his eyes trailing down her body. 

"What can I ask for?" He asked softly, raising one hand to stroke her hip. 

Sansa hummed thoughtfully, then straddled him again. 

"Ask me for whatever you'd like," she whispered, her heart jumping a little as she put everything in his hands.

"Would you…" he trailed off then ducked his head. 

Sansa was taken aback. He had always been so rough, so sure, a little rude if she was being honest, when she ran into him at the hospital. And now he was shy, blushing, unable to choke out the words. 

"Tell me," Sansa whispered encouragingly as she lifted his hands and placed them firmly on her hips. 

"Will you kiss me?" He asked, barely audible, glancing up at her and then quickly lowering his eyes again. 

Sansa felt like her heart might've just shattered into a million pieces. She caught her breath, and then gently cupped his jaw, nudging him to raise his head to look at her. He looked scared, she realized. She leaned forward and kissed him. 

His body tensed again at the contact. Sansa moved her lips against his, which were completely still as though he was frozen in shock. Sansa let her hands fall a little, one resting against his neck and the other wrapping around him. 

He finally seemed to unfreeze and moved his lips against hers, his hands flexing on her hips. Sansa moaned softly into his mouth and continued kissing him. His hands raised hesitantly to her waist, one drifting back to splay across the small of her back. 

They held that position for some time, and he finally broke the kiss, panting a little. His eyes were closed, and his head ducked down. She ran a soothing hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face.

"Would you like to touch me, Sandor?" She asked after a few moments of silence. 

He looked up at her, confused again, and she gave him a little smile. She placed her hands over his and guided them up her body to her breasts. She moaned a little as he cupped her, and she dropped her hands from his, placing them on his broad shoulders. 

"Touch me." She whispered. "It's alright." 

His hands slowly rubbed her chest, gliding back down and around her back, then to her front again. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples and she whimpered a little, her eyes falling shut. Without thinking, she began to roll her hips against him. She felt him get hard between her legs and shivered a little, feeling adrenaline rush through her body. 

"Is this okay?" He asked softly as his thumbs brushed over her nipples again. She hummed a quiet "yes" and kissed him again, wrapping her fingers of one hand into his hair. Her other hand resting against his chest. 

He dropped his hands from her chest as she kissed him, one hand falling to her hip and the other on her thigh. He pulled her against him, rocking his hips up to meet hers. Sansa gasped and giggled a little. He broke the kiss to meet her gaze, giving her a questioning look. She nodded to him and smiled a little. She was beginning to lose her breath as he kissed her again, and everything began to fade away except the feel of his hands on her skin, his mouth on hers, their hips clumsily rutting together, and the little grunts he made as he pulled her against him. 

Without thinking, she raised her hand from his chest to his face, cupping his jaw and rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone. The burned skin there felt almost waxy, and she wanted to let her fingers explore a little, but Sandor froze. 

She kept up her motions for a moment, thinking she might've just startled him a little, but he wrapped his huge hands firmly around each of her wrists and pushed her away. 

"Sandor?" She asked, concerned at this sudden change. His face was unreadable again, but she could see the anger flashing behind his eyes. 

He continued to push her back by her wrists until she was forced to stand, and he rose as well, towering over her. He pushed her all the way back against the opposite wall, and just stared down at her for a long moment. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered, starting to get scared. He sneered at her and tightened his hands on her wrists, pressing her back harder into the wall. Sansa took a few shaky breaths, then whispered, "You're hurting me." 

He dropped her wrists immediately and took a step back. He glared at her for a moment, then turned on his heel and fled the room. 

Sansa stared after him for a moment, and then sank down the wall. She was breathing hard and her hands trembled. What had just happened? Why had that upset him so much? How had he gone from sweet, gentle, shy, right back to brooding and rude, menacing even, all because she touched his face? 

"Alayne?" Jorah appeared in the doorway to the room. "I saw your guest leaving in a hurry, are you alright?" 

Sansa barely registered that he was there, blinking up at him with blank eyes. 

Jorah moved to kneel in front of her and took one of her trembling hands. "Sansa?" He whispered, and she managed to focus her eyes on him when she heard her true name. "Did he hurt you?" 

"No." Sansa said, shaking her head. "He just… I touched his face and he got angry. He just pushed me away and squeezed my wrists too tight. I thought he might... but he just rushed off." 

Jorah considered her for a moment, then rose and helped her to her feet. He checked her wrists for bruises, and had her spin once so he could make sure she wasn't hurt, then left her to get dressed. 

She pulled her cover tight around herself with one hand, and her shoes dangled from the other as she hurried back to the dressing room, praying Daenerys hadn't finished her whiskey. 

"Girl! Alayne!" She turned and saw Dr. Dondarrion and Dr. Giantsbane still sat in their corner. Dr. Dondarrion was the one who called out to her. "Our friend that was with you, where did he go?" 

"He, um, left." Sansa said, her voice shaking a little. 

"Fucking cunt." Dr. Dondarrion stood and left. 

Dr. Giantsbane stood slower, and took a step toward her. "Are you alright? He asked, genuine concern in his eyes. 

"Yes." She said softly, ducking her head. "I just… I got scared, and he got angry, and…" 

"He got angry because you were scared?" 

"No! No, um, he got angry and then I got scared. And then he just kind of…" 

"Stormed out without saying a fucking thing?" Dr. Giantsbane offered with a smirk. 

"Yes." Sansa said, smiling a little. 

Dr. Giantsbane took another step forward and touched her hair, lifting a strand and letting it fall through his fingers. 

"Kissed by fire…" he mused, then looked back at her with a small smile. "I'll set him right, he knows it's bad luck to frighten a ginger. Goodnight, Alayne."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that Sandor's appearance at the club was everything you all dreamed of! Please comment and let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Margaery had looked surprised when Sansa suggested they go grab a coffee on Monday morning. Sansa had wanted to tell Margaery about what had happened with Dr. Clegane the minute it happened, but she too had been in a private room with a customer all night. 

Sansa paid for their coffees then led Margaery to a bench. She'd considered just telling her down in the basement, but she didn't want to break the unspoken rule about not mentioning the club at work. Well, at least not so outwardly. 

"I'd wondered if Sandor might've wanted a dance." Margaery said with a smug smile. "I saw him watching you, and you both disappeared while I was on stage." 

Sansa swatted at her hands. "Stop giving me that look! Well everything was going fine, and then I touched his scars." Margaery's eyes widened a little before she composed her expression. "I wasn't even thinking about it, it wasn't intentional to touch them, but he… I don't know, 'freaked out' isn't the right term." Sansa sighed and leaned back. "But he got upset and left."

Margaery seemed to be mulling it over, so Sansa waited and sipped her coffee. She'd decided not to mention how shy and hesitant he'd seemed before that; it felt too personal, she didn't assume Dr. Clegane let that side of him show often, if at all. 

"So what exactly did he do?" Margaery asked after a few moments. 

"He grabbed my wrists and pushed me away. All the way back against the other wall." 

"Did he say anything?" 

"No, nothing at all. He looked furious though, and got even angrier when I apologized." 

Margaery pursed her lips. "What did he do then? When you apologized?" 

"He pushed me back again, and squeezed harder on my wrists. I said that it hurt, and he just stormed out." 

They fell silent again, and Sansa could tell that Margaery wasn't sure what to make of it. 

"He probably just didn't expect it." Margaery said after a few minutes. "I don't know Sandor especially well. I don't think anybody does, except maybe Beric. But I know that he doesn't like talking about his scars, and that he's quite self conscious about them. I wouldn't fret over it, darling." 

Sansa nodded mutely, taking another sip of her coffee. 

"So…" Margaery said, and Sansa internally braced herself. That was the gossip voice. "What happened before all that? What was he like?" 

Sansa rolled her eyes at Margaery to hide the butterflies in her stomach. "He was gentle." She said finally, deciding that wouldn't be considered inflammatory. "And quite respectful." 

"That's all I get?" Margaery asked indignantly after a moment. "You drag me all the way out here to fret about him, and that's all I get?" 

"I bought you a coffee!" Sansa objected playfully, smiling a little. "I don't kiss and tell." 

Margaery's jaw dropped and Sansa was the one with the smug smile now, as she stood and began to walk back inside. 

"You KISSED him?" Margaery called after her. Sansa looked over her shoulder and laughed, but didn't respond. She smiled as she heard Margaery's quick footsteps catching up to hers. 

She arrived the next morning before Margaery or Podrick. Arya had kept Lyanna last night so Sansa could go to Daenerys's nameday party at Iron Price, so she'd been able to leave the house without a fuss. The other girls had objected to her leaving when she did, but when Yara had forced Daenerys into a chair and given HER a lap dance, she'd decided it was time to go. She'd even chanced an elegant bun this morning instead of her normal high pony, and put on a little bit of eyeliner. She still only wore her contacts at the club, and wore her thick black framed glasses to work. She knew it was silly to think that a pair of glasses might protect her identity, but if it worked for Wonder Man, it was good enough for her.

Sansa smiled and hummed to herself, sipping her coffee, as her computer booted up. She had made plans with Shae last night, to go shopping together. Shae said it was a little farther away, but she knew of a much better shop than Melisandre's here in Wintertown. 

Sansa typed in her credentials and opened her email, thinking to herself that nothing would stop today from being a good day. 

She cursed herself immediately upon seeing an email from Dr. Clegane with the subject line 'URGENT.' She opened it and found a list of charts he needed. She sighed and printed off the email, wishing for the millionth time that she had two screens. 

She opened the database, and looked down at the printed email again as she waited for it to load. It had been sent at 4:17 in the morning. What in Gods name was he doing at the hospital at 4:17? 

Her phone rang just then. She fished it out of her purse and saw an unknown number. She answered, but there was silence on the other end. 

Sansa sighed and began searching the names. She checked them off and was curious to find that none of the requested charts were in the database. 

Margaery came through the doors then, smiling and bidding Sansa good morning. Sansa showed Maragery the email. 

"I suppose it's possible that these patients were from over 20 years ago." Margaery said slowly. "We just digitized the last 20 years for now, records older than that are requested so rarely." 

"So what should I do?" Sansa asked nervously, chewing the inside of her cheek. 

"Just reply to him and tell him you need more information." Margaery shrugged and swept off to her own desk. 

Sansa looked after her indignantly, then turned back to the computer and began to type. She worded the message as nicely as she could, explaining that she would be happy to locate the records with more information. She read the email over several times before she sent it, then set about retrieving the other requested documents. 

It was after lunch when the door to the records hall slammed open. Sansa jumped and let out a little squeak as the papers she was holding slipped from her hands. She dropped to her knees to collect them, and when she glanced up she saw Dr. Clegane and Dr. Giantsbane. 

She abandoned the papers and rose to her feet. "What can I help you with?" She asked in a shaky voice. 

"Where are the charts then?" Dr. Clegane asked forcefully. 

Sansa just stared at him for a moment. 

"The charts you don't have in your little computer yet." He spat. He seemed to be shaking with rage. 

"Oh! Um," she turned to look at Margaery, who was already hurrying over to show Dr. Clegane to the appropriate boxes. 

Tormund hesitated at her desk. "Kissed by fire." He said softly, pointing to her hair when she gave him a confused look. 

She went pale and Dr. Giantsbane chuckled darkly, before following Dr. Clegane and Margaery. After a moment staring blankly after him, she knelt and collected the papers she'd dropped. When Margaery walked back by she was rolling her eyes and little and shaking her head. 

Sansa hesitated a moment, tapping her nails on her desk, then walked over to where she could see Dr. Clegane kneeling over a box and Dr. Giantsbane leaning against a wall beside him. 

"Dr. Clegane, I can help if you-" 

"Don't bother." He snarled without looking at her. 

Sansa flinched and ducked her head. She bit her lip and began to walk away. 

"You've got to relax, Clegane!" She heard Dr. Giantsbane say to him. "You scared the poor girl. Don't you know it's bad luck to frighten a ginger?" 

Sansa's head snapped back around to Dr. Giantsbane, who gave her a triumphant smile. She barely registered Dr. Clegane's response, which might've been 'fuck off,' as she stared at the wild man grinning broadly at her. 

She turned on her heel and walked to the doors, giving Dr. Giantsbane a pointed look before walking through them. She walked a little ways down the hall, her heart pounding. He followed her through the door and approached with the same broad grin on his face. 

"You recognized me?" She asked softly. 

"Yes I did, Alayne." He smirked and said her stage name dramatically. 

She resisted the urge to hit him. "Did Dr. Dondarrion or Dr. Clegane-?" 

"Nah," he waved a hand dismissively. "Beric only had eyes for the blonde, the dragon girl. Something about fire gods and breathing fire. And Clegane's inability to look a beautiful woman in the eye under normal human circumstances has bested him once again." 

Sansa exhaled sharply, relieved. "Dr. Giantsbane-" she began. 

"I've seen your tits, love." He cut her off with a smirk. "You can call me Tormund." 

She fought the urge to hit him again, then began again, "Tormund, I don't want the entire hospital knowing that I…" she trailed off, searching for the right words. 

"Your secret is safe with me." He said, patting her shoulder. He still looked quite amused and she didn't fully believe him, but she nodded once. 

"Thank you." She said curtly, and started back towards the doors. 

"If you were wondering," Tormund said as she reached for the handle. "He feels like a right idiot for the way he acted." 

Sansa ducked her head to hide her blush as she pushed back through the doors, clenching her jaw as she heard Tormund howl with laughter. 

Sansa and Margaery went for coffee again the next day.

"Yes, dear Tormund called me out too." She said with a sigh. "Don't worry, darling, he's trustworthy." She added quickly at the look of horror on Sansa's face. 

"He said that Dr. Dondarrion and Dr. Clegane didn't recognize me." She said after a moment. 

"What else did he say?" 

Sansa could hear the smirk without looking. She exhaled sharply. "He said that Dr. Clegane feels like an idiot for what he did." 

"Sansa, sweetling…" Margaery took one of Sansa's hands in both of hers and gave her a serious look. "If you don't stop stating the obvious like it's the most scandalous thing you've ever heard, I'm going to rip your bloody hair out." 

Sansa gasped and yanked her hand away. 

"Of course he feels like an idiot!" Margaery threw her hands up. "He acted like a fool! He had a beautiful girl on his lap and fucked it up! How else should the oaf feel?" 

Sansa smacked Margaery's hand softly. "Don't talk about him like that." 

Margaery quirked an eyebrow. "You're defending him?" 

"Clearly he has some issues, but don't we all?" Sansa said, tracing her finger around the rim of her cup. "He had an emotional reaction to something traumatic, that's no reason to call him an idiot or an oaf." 

Margaery stared at her for a long moment, but let it drop. They didn't talk as they returned to the basement. Sansa could tell Margaery had questions about Sansa's outburst, but she was in no hurry to answer them. 

She excused herself quietly to the restroom before they reached the records hall. She locked herself in a stall and leaned back against the door, trying to catch her breath. 

She didn't understand fully why Sandor had had such a strong reaction to her touching his scars, but she could empathize. One touch, one word, one scent could send her spiraling down, afterall. She was just lucky enough not to have her greatest fears and deepest insecurities etched into her face for the world to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy guys, last chapter got more comments than anything else I've posted here! I'm so glad that this story is being enjoyed and that it's coming across the way I intended. 
> 
> This chapter should've mostly answered the question, but quite a few people guessed that either Sandor recognized her at the club, or he would put two and two together once he saw her at the hospital. I hope you're not disappointed that he didn't, but it seemed feasible to me. I work for an insurance brokerage firm with thousands of employees, and theres people I have a standing 3pm smoke break with that I don't think I would recognize out of context. Once I even ran into my boss at a concert and chatted with him for like 10 minutes while I was waiting for my friend before I realized who he was. Maybe I'm just a weirdo though? Idk. 
> 
> Anyhoo, thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa had hoped to herself that Sandor would return to Lost Ones, but as the hour grew later, she'd dropped that wish from her mind. She was quite busy now anyways, given her new comfortability with getting on stage topless. 

She had just come out of a private dance, and approached the DJ booth when she saw how much the club had emptied out. 

"Alright, love?" Bronn greeted her as she approached, and she smiled. She'd grown rather fond of the crude man who skulked around dark corners of the club, frightening off creepy men before the girls had a chance to tell Jorah or Barristan, who typically stayed up near the front. 

Sansa leaned against the DJ booth, chatting with Bronn, Tyrion, and Podrick for a while, almost forgetting for a moment that she was working. 

"Alayne." Pod said suddenly, sharper than normal. 

Sansa looked at him, then followed his gaze toward the front door. Her breath caught in her throat. Dr. Clegane stood there, stopped by Jorah and Barristan. 

Tyrion and Bronn looked over, curious as well, as Sansa's hands flexed on the edge of the booth. She took a deep breath, gave a Pod an appreciative glance, and excused herself. 

She heard Tyrion begin to explain to Bronn the events of last week as she walked away. A moment later, she felt a hand on her waist and started a little. 

"I'm right here if needed, love." She recognized Bronn's voice. 

His hand disappeared as quickly as it had landed, and she turned a little to catch his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze as she smiled appreciatively. He nodded once and made his way to the bar, his gaze resting on Sandor. 

"...found one of my girls frightened out of her wits on the floor, why would I-" 

Sansa set her hand on Jorah's arm and he stopped immediately, head snapping around to meet her gaze. She gave him a reassuring smile, then turned to face Sandor. 

"I didn't think I'd see you again." She said curiously, dropping her hand from Jorah's arm. 

"I came to apologize." He said softly, looking sheepish. "Would you be willing to sit with me, talk for a moment?" 

She gazed at him for a long moment, then nodded. She could see the relief on his face. She gave Jorah's arm a reassuring pat, then led Sandor to a small table out of earshot from Jorah and Barristan, but where they could still clearly see them. 

She and Sandor sat, and she folded her hands on the table, waiting for him to speak. 

"I'm so sorry I scared you." He said after a long moment, not meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I was taken aback, I didn't expect you to… and then I just…" he trailed off, looking around a little as he searched for words. 

"Panicked?" Sansa offered quietly, and Sandor's eyes snapped to hers. 

"Aye," he agreed. "I panicked."

Sansa slowly reached across the table to lay her hand over his. "I understand." She offered. "I didn't mean to frighten you either. It didn't even occur to me that I was touching…" she trailed off as well, and his hand twisted up to grip hers. 

"No one has ever touched me there before." He admitted, squeezing her hand. "Too ugly for anyone to look at, let alone touch." He broke her gaze, staring pointedly away from her. 

"You're not ugly, Sandor." She said, and he scoffed. "I mean it." She squeezed his hand. "Scars or not, you're very handsome." 

He scoffed again, but turned his head back to meet her gaze. 

"If it's alright with you," he began slowly, "if you're comfortable with it," his eyes dropped from hers again, "I'd like to give us a do-over. Try that again." 

He met her gaze again, nervous, and she could see the worry painted over his face as he studied her. She felt that pang of sympathy in her chest again, realizing he thought his actions might've been unforgivable. 

She scooted her chair a little closer to him, and placed her other hand on his as well. 

"I have two conditions." She said softly, giving his hand a little squeeze as he broke her gaze again. "First, I'd like you to buy me a drink." His eyes snapped around again, looking at her curiously. "Second… I want you to talk to me. Let me get to know you. Tell me how you got your scars, and why it upset you so when I touched them." 

He stared back at her for a moment, then raised his other hand to settle on hers as well. 

"Alright, little bird." He whispered, giving her hands a little squeeze before he stood and walked to the bar. 

Sansa felt a jolt in her stomach. Little bird. He'd called her that once before, at the hospital. 'The little bird is quite pretty.' Did that mean he did recognize her then? Or did he just go around calling girls little bird? 

She stood as well after a moment, quickly approaching Jorah. She tried to explain that it was all okay, that it was a misunderstanding, but he still looked suspiciously over at Sandor. 

She gave up on Jorah, and joined Sandor at the bar. He gave her a little smile, and she accepted her Dornish red from the bartender. She took his hand and led him back into a private room. He walked in without hesitation this time, and Sansa followed him, shutting the door behind them. She turned and saw Sandor place two gold dragons on the little coffee table, then turn to face her. 

She smiled at him, and sat on the couch with her back to the door. He followed her lead and sat on the other side, looking across at her and waiting for her to take the lead. 

She set her wine on the table and began to remove her sheer cover. 

"No." He said hoarsely as the cover fell to her elbows. She looked at him. "Don't take it off." 

She looked at him curiously for a moment, then pulled the cover back up to her shoulders. She shifted a little to face him on the couch, and he did the same. There was space between them, but they still could've easily reached out to touch each other. 

"It was my brother that fucked up my face." He said finally, breaking the silence. 

Sansa's hands jumped to her mouth as she gasped, and he grimaced. 

"It was just after our mum died. Dad was passed out drunk. And my brother caught me playing with one of his toys." He stopped for a moment, looking down at his hands. "Pushed my face into the coals." He finished quietly, his hands flexing on his knees. 

Sansa scooted a little closer on the couch and set her hands over one of his. 

"I'm so sorry that happened to you." She said softly, squeezing his hand a little. 

He grunted and didn't meet her gaze. They just sat there for a few minutes, and then he cleared his throat and raised his head to look at her. 

"Does it still hurt?" She asked, raising her one of her hands from his to brush back the hair that fell forward over the scars, careful not to touch him. 

"No, not anymore. Not since I stopped growing." He said. 

They were silent again for a moment, Sandor letting her hold his hair away from his face as she looked at the scars. Then he raised his hand to cover hers, pressing her fingers to his burned temple. 

Sansa looked back at his face and saw his eyes closed, and his breathing appeared quickened. She hesitated for a moment, then let her fingers slowly explore his skin. She felt the dips and raises, the valleys and creases, and she heard him release a long slow breath. 

She scooted closer again, bracing her other hand on his chest as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his scared temple. He flinched but didn't pull away. She let her lips linger on his marred skin as she raised the hand on his chest up to cradle his jaw on the other side of his face. His hands found her waist, pulling her in closer.

There was a sharp rap on the door and they both jumped, letting each other go reflexively. 

"You alright, love?" Bronn called. 

"Yes, Bronn, we're fine." Sansa called over her shoulder. Sandor gave her a sheepish look and she squeezed his knee with a reassuring smile. "So tell me more about you. What line of work are you in?" 

"I'm a doctor. A surgeon, actually." 

They chatted easily about his work for the span of a few songs. He told her that he'd gone to medical school wanting to do research, but was convinced by a counselor to apply for a surgical residency. 

Then there was another tap on the door. 

"Alayne?" 

"We're fine, Jorah!" Sansa snapped over her shoulder, getting frustrated now. "Sorry," she said, turning back to Sandor. 

"I really did scare you, didn't I?" He said softly, sadness in his eyes. 

Sansa regarded him for a long moment, then scooted closer to him on the couch so their legs were pressed together. 

"Yes," she said, and he squeezed his eyes shut in shame. "But that's not entirely your fault. I… I'm not used to being touched gently either." She admitted, taking his hand. 

He looked at her again, sadness and shame still clear on his face, but confusion there now too. She smiled a little, then stood from the couch. She let her cover drop and removed her bra, then sat down again with her back towards him. She took a steadying breath and then swept her hair over her shoulder to reveal the long, thin scars that covered her back. 

She heard Sandor inhale sharply at the sight. After a moment she felt his cool fingers touch her shoulder and trace one of the lines. It went from her left shoulder all the way down to the swell of her right hip. 

"How did this happen?" He asked softly. 

"My ex." She replied. "He badgered me to let him tie me up, and when I finally gave in…" she trailed off and ducked her head, willing herself not to cry or start shaking or otherwise embarrass herself. 

His fingers continued to trace the little lines, his touch so light and delicate she could hardly feel it. She shivered a little as he traced one that followed her spine, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her scar at the nape of her neck, letting his lips trail down her skin. She shivered again and moaned softly, her head rolling back against her will. 

Sandor's strong arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her into him so her back was pressed tight against his massive chest. He buried his face into her neck and kissed the skin there. 

"I'll never hurt you, Alayne. Ever. " He whispered into the sensitive skin just behind her ear, making her shiver again. "I'm so sorry that what I did made you think that I might… I'm so sorry." He kissed down her neck and shoulder, gently, feather light, and Sansa began to tremble. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you just don't stop doing that." She whispered shakily. 

She felt his breathy chuckle before she heard it, and he obeyed, continuing his little kisses up and down her neck. He raised one hand to rest against her throat, curling his fingers just a little. She raised her chin reflexively, following his touch. His fingers flexed on her throat, but he didn't squeeze. 

She could feel herself getting wetter by the second. It was so erotic, so unfamiliar. She could feel his strength in his chest that she was pressed against, in the arm across her belly that held her firmly in place, the flex of his fingers on her throat. Contrasted with the tiniest, sweetest little kisses, like he was brushing her skin with flower petals. The roughness of his beard on her soft skin as he moved. All of it was combining into something she'd never imagined she could feel before, and for the first time, the knowledge that she couldn't escape his grasp if she tried didn't frighten her. 

Her hands gripped his thighs tightly and she began to push her hips back against him, feeling his hard manhood pushed into the small of her back. She almost whined at the feeling, letting her body collapse back into his chest. 

She heard him growl softly, and the sound sent another jolt to her core. Sandor moved his arm that was wrapped across her waist, laying his large hand gently over her breast. She actually did whine this time, jutting her chest forward as she ground back against him again. He breathed another chuckle and began to play with her nipple, first just rubbing circles with the pads of his fingers, then giving little pinches and tugs. 

Sansa was putty in his hands, writhing against him and moaning softly. She could feel the heat gathering in her belly and wondered fleetingly if it was possible to climax without a single touch to her womanhood. 

Then there was another sharp tap on the door and the spell broke. Sandor withdrew his touches as though he'd been burnt, and Sansa bolted upright, her heart pounding in her ears. 

"Alayne?" It was fucking Bronn again. 

"Fuck off, Bronn!" Sansa shouted. "We're fine! Drop it!" 

She could practically hear his incredulous mumbles as he walked away, and she dropped her head into her hands, breathing hard.

Sandor chuckled a little at her outburst, but made no move to touch her again as she caught her breath. After a few moments she raised her head and turned to meet his gaze. He looked as flushed as she felt, and she could still see the outline of his erection pressing against his jeans. 

"For a moment there I thought you might come without even being touched properly." He said with a little smirk. 

"For a moment, so did I." She admitted, reaching for her forgotten wine and taking a long drink. 

They sat in silence for another moment before Sandor spoke. "So what exactly are the rules here?" He asked. "What am I allowed to ask of you?" 

"Ros lets us decide ourselves what we're comfortable with." She replied, then took another drink. 

"And what are you comfortable with?" 

Sansa hesitated, then decided to tell the truth, "I don't know, honestly." She chuckled a little. "I'm pretty new to this, you're the only person that's wanted me for a whole night. Haven't given it much thought." 

She met his gaze, and he was staring at her with that unreadable look. 

"I'm gonna need you to throw me a bone here, little bird." He said after a moment. "Give me something to work with." 

She giggled, then reached for his hand. "Can we take it one day at a time?" She asked. "Tell me what you want, and I'll say yes or no?" 

"You're gonna make me put myself out there like that?" He sounded amused, accepting her outstretched hand and letting her wind their fingers together.

"Yep." She said with an innocent smile, and he groaned, tilting his head back. "What would you like me to do, Sandor?" She asked, batting her eyes a little. 

"Dance for me." He said, shaking his head a little. 

Sansa smiled and rose to her feet. She finished her wine and began to dance. She didn't look at him for several songs, but rather kept finding herself looking at her own body in the mirror. She still wore her sky-high heels, and couldn't help but notice how nice her legs and rear looked as she danced for him. She hoped that he thought the same, but for some reason she found herself determined not to look at him until he stopped her dancing. 

She twirled around and stopped directly in front of him with her back turned. She pulled her hair over her shoulder again as she swayed her hips invitingly, running her hands down the curve of her waist. 

She felt his hand on her hip, tugging gently. She followed his touch and moved closer, biting her lip to hide her smirk. She felt his lips trace over a scar on her hip and flinched, freezing in spite of herself, as the memory of how she got it crashed into her. 

"I'm not going to hurt you." He murmured into her skin, but her ears were ringing. 

Then she felt him begin to trace the scars on the backs of her thighs and she began to tremble again in spite of herself. She took a deep breath and wanted to bury her face in her hands when she heard how shaky she sounded.

She tried to continue dancing, to push thoughts of Ramsay from her mind, but Sandor's arms wrapped securely around her hips, pulling her towards him until her rear rested against his chest. She set her hands on his arms to try to steady herself, letting her weight rest on him. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she breathed deeply, trying to slow her heartbeat. 

"I'm not going to hurt you…" Sandor whispered again, pressing kisses along her hip. "I've got you, Alayne." 

She twisted in his arms, letting her hands fall to his broad shoulders. He started to look up at her, but was distracted when he saw that the scars continued on her abdomen. He looked up at her then, his eyes dark. 

"Tell me you had the cunt that did this to you killed?" He asked seriously, and Sansa couldn't help a little smile. 

"He's not worth the effort." She said, stroking her thumb along his jawbone. 

He growled a little as he kissed the biggest scar on her abdomen, just inside her hip bone, and Sansa felt another jolt of heat to her core. She shivered and he looked back up at her face.

"Scars are the reason I ended up specializing in plastic surgery." He said thoughtfully. "My chief resident fought me on it, saying I'd end up doing nose jobs and ass lifts for the rest of my life." 

Sansa looked down at him curiously, then slowly let her body sink down until she was perched on Sandor's knee. His arms were still wrapped around her, but he didn't really seem to notice. 

"He almost had me convinced, I was just about to declare an orthopedic specialty. But then we had an ER patient, a burn victim." 

His fingers trailed absentmindedly up and down her thigh. 

"Just a kid, 14 years old. Trapped under a wardrobe while his house burned. Sixty percent of his body was covered in burns. I wanted to help, tried to help, but the senior doctors told me to find another patient, that my face wasn't what he needed to see then." 

Sansa frowned, squeezing his shoulders a little. It broke her heart, it truly did, to hear how he was turned away from wanting to help someone because of his burn scars. 

"I listened, I left, I found someone else to help. Other patients who were just as horrified by my face, who quietly asked the nurses if there was another doctor available." 

He chuckled darkly, and Sansa felt her stomach twist. He was dangerous, she could tell. She could almost feel the anger radiating off of him as he recounted his story. But just like she hadn't been afraid of his strength when she realized she couldn't escape him, she wasn't afraid now of his anger. 

"Things finally settled. I wasn't on call, but the boys' parents weren't there yet. He was all alone. So I sat in his room while I did my charts. He was unconscious anyways, didn't think he'd notice me. But then he coded." 

Sansa inhaled sharply and Sandor glanced up at her. She rubbed his shoulders, hoping it would convey that she wanted him to continue. 

"I was first there, obviously. Looked at the chart, and saw that no one had checked him for smoke inhalation, since he was speaking clearly when he arrived. His airway had closed off, too much soot. I intubated him, and started CPR." 

Sansa was biting back tears now, squeezing her fingers into Sandor's shoulders as he absentmindedly ran his hand up and down her legs. 

"Other doctors arrived, told me to go, to trade off, let someone else help pump his chest. But I wouldn't let them. They missed the soot in his throat, they couldn't be trusted to keep him alive. We got him back. It felt like hours, but we got him back. And he looked up at me, and the senior doctor told me to leave. But the boy grabbed me, tugged on me. So I stayed. I stayed right there with him all night. When we extubated him, the first thing he said was 'if you lived, so will I.'"

Sandor met her eyes now, which she knew were sparkling with unshed tears. 

"It was then that I knew. Burns fall under plastic surgery, and that's where I wanted to be. I told the head of the residency department the next day. He reminded me about the nose jobs and the ass lifts, but I didn't care." 

Sansa raised a shaky hand to cup his blemished cheek again, and this time he didn't flinch. 

"Tormund and Beric, they're cut out for normal plastics. A pretty girl bears everything to them and they tell her she's beautiful, she's perfect the way she is, and she leaves without some fucking implant. But me? You want bigger tits, I'll give you bigger tits. Want a smaller nose, I'll give you a smaller nose. Not up to me to tell someone how they should look. But me… someone with scars, or someone who had their face crushed, I can talk to them. I can work with them. I can make them feel like themselves. And I can study and try to find ways they can heal faster." 

Sansa stared down at him in awe as he lazily traced a prominent scar on her hip with his thumb, not meeting her gaze. 

"Maybe someday I'll figure it out exactly, how to make scars disappear." He murmured, finally lifting his face to meet her gaze. 

She couldn't help it. She crashed her mouth into his, kissing him desperately and clinging to him. He returned her kiss enthusiastically, pulling her tight against his chest. They kissed fiercely for a few moments before breaking away to catch their breath. 

"I'll do it one day." He whispered solemnly. "I'll find a way to make scars disappear." 

"Scars are nothing to be ashamed of." She whispered against his lips. She felt him scoff and grasped his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "They're not." She said forcefully. "Scars tell a story. Our story. They remind us to care for one another. They remind us that our past is real, they keep the lessons we learned in our minds." 

His hands flexed against her hip and legs, but he still looked unconvinced. 

"There was a time when I thought beauty was everything." She whispered after a moment. "But I knew nothing then, did I? I knew nothing of real strength, or courage. Or of the evil that can hide behind beauty. My scars remind me that there's more than meets the eye." 

Sandor's fingers traced the scars on her belly and hips before he met her gaze. "You're beautiful." He said simply, sadness returning to his eyes as he looked up at her. 

"So are you." She leaned her forehead against his as she whispered the words. 

She felt his desire to object and kissed him before he could find his words, cradling his scarred cheek in her hand. She couldn't bear it, this beautiful man, this scarred warrior, sitting here thinking that he needed fixing. That his scars were a flaw, no matter how prominent. She knew the rest of the world might flinch to look at him, but they were fools and they knew nothing. It wasn't just scars that marked his face, it was strength, and courage, and sheer determination. 

She wished desperately for all that she felt to come across in her kiss, knowing he would likely stop her if she tried to say it. 

They clung to each other, kissing desperately, for several long minutes before he twisted her in his arms until she was pressed back into the seat of the couch. She still clung on to him, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him closer. She didn't know when his shirt disappeared; she just registered when their chests were pressed together without a barrier of fabric. His fingers were fumbling at her hip, trying to wrap in the little elastic to pull down her last shred of clothing, when she suddenly froze. 

She gave his chest a gentle push and he fell back immediately, dropping his hand from her hip and sitting back, panting hard. 

"I'm sorry." He rasped out, averting his eyes from her. 

She sat up quickly and caught his chin in her hand, guiding his face back toward her. 

"Hush now." She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

He raised his arms tentatively to wrap around her waist, and she let herself settle into his massive chest as she caught her breath, winding her arms around his middle and linking her fingers together behind the small of his back. 

He raised a tentative hand to stroke her hair and she hummed softly, nuzzling her face into his chest. 

He settled them back into the couch, with her cradled in his arms and her arms locked around him. She let her head rest against his shoulder as he carefully rearranged their position, keeping her arms threaded around him. 

She couldn't have said how long they sat like that before the lights flashed to indicate the club was closing. Sansa pushed herself up in his arms and met his gaze for a moment, then pulled him back in for a long, passionate kiss. He returned it eagerly, cupping her cheek with his huge hand. 

Sansa giggled a little when they broke apart, and leaned her forehead against his as they both caught their breath. She leaned away from him after a moment to meet his gaze, and saw the conflict, shame, and sadness behind his eyes. 

"Will you come see me again?" She asked softly. 

"Do you want me to?" His hands still rested on her waist, but he looked strangely vulnerable. 

Sansa pressed her body into his and captured his lips in another kiss. "Yes." She whispered against his mouth. 

His hands flexed on the small of her back as he slowly released his grip on her. 

"As long as you want me, little bird," he said softly, "I'll be here." 

Sansa felt a pang of affection in her chest. She rose to her feet and pulled him with her. She captured his lips with hers again. She was standing up on her toes and he was leaning down, and she marveled to herself for a moment over how big he truly was. 

He broke their kiss when the lights flashed again. 

"Until next time, little bird." He pressed one more kiss against her lips, then released her and disappeared through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was my favorite chapter to write so far! Please let me know how you felt about all this. Sandor and Sansa sharing trauma, kissing and making up, promises to return. It's getting hot in here!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight 

Sansa had joined the other girls at the bar that night. Her head was reeling from her night with Sandor, and she didn't know what to make of any of it. 

Margaery had badgered her for details, and Sansa had refused for a time before admitting that they'd kissed, which seemed to satisfy Margaery's need for gossip. 

Sansa sat quietly at the bar as the other girls partied. She normally would've joined them, but tonight it felt like keeping a smile on her face was just too much work. 

"Bad night?" 

Sansa looked up and saw Theon on the other side of the bar, refilling her glass. 

"Not at all." She admitted as she took the shot. Theon continued to regard her curiously. "A client opened up to me," she explained. "But I recognize him from other places, and he doesn't seem to recognize me at all." 

Theon nodded and regarded her for a moment. "It's not your fault he didn't recognize you, if you know each other." He said after a long pause, filling her glass again. "Just try to treat him like any other customer." 

"You don't think he'd be mad if he ever figures it out?" 

"He probably will be," Theon chuckled, "but the business requires discretion and that goes both ways. Not like you can approach him outside the club and say 'thanks for paying to look at my tits the other night.'" 

Sansa laughed and took another shot. Theon gave her an approving smile before moving further down the bar. Theon was right, she decided. She had recognized Dr. Clegane immediately, after all. It wasn't her fault he hadn't recognized her. 

Sansa rose from the bar and approached the girls finally. Daenerys was singing, loudly and off key, in Valyrian. She swayed back and forth and held a bottle of wine high in the air, which Missandei was trying to get from her. Shae and Meera were playing darts, bickering about whether it was more dangerous to explore north of the wall or work for a brothel in Pentos. Margaery was laughing at Daenerys and Missandei, as Missandei finally got the wine bottle away from the blond. 

Sansa sat next to Margaery, who threw her arms around her. 

"Alayne…" Margaery attempted her stern gossip face, even as she swayed and slurred a little. "I need details, darling. Details. What did you and Sandor do in that room all night?" 

"I already told you." Sansa laughed. 

"Yes, yes, you kissed him," Margaery rolled her eyes, and Daenerys and Missandei looked around at them. "But what else? I don't believe you just sat in there kissing for hours." 

Daenerys and Missandei were both openly interested now, and sat down at the table with them. 

"We talked some." Sansa said carefully. 

"What about?" Daenerys asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Sansa sighed, signaling to Theon for another drink. "Just chit chat, you know." 

"Sandor doesn't 'chit chat.'" Margaery said, making air quotes with her fingers. "If he talked to you, I guarantee it was meaningful." 

Sansa looked between the three of them and knew that the topic wouldn't drop until she told them something. 

"He told me about an old patient." She said finally, waving her hand in what she hoped was a dismissive fashion. "Talked about why he went into plastic surgery." 

Missandei and Daenerys both made a small 'aww' sound, and Margaery's mouth fell open. 

"You mean to tell me," Margaery scooted closer to Sansa's chair, "that Sandor opened up to you about his residency?" 

"Um. Yes. I suppose he did." Sansa said nervously, wondering now whether she'd revealed too much personal information. 

"He likes you." Margaery said softly, falling against the back of her chair. "Really likes you." 

"It's not like that." Sansa said, and Daenerys and Missandei exchanged a meaningful look. "It's not!" She insisted. 

"It was like that with Daario and me." Daenerys said with a knowing smile. 

"And Jakob." Missandei added. 

"They were just customers at first, but they let their guard down. Let us know them." Daenerys explained. 

"It's not like that." Sansa repeated. "I just told him, because he had frightened me the first time, to open up a little. I did too." 

The other three shared a knowing look again, and Sansa scoffed. 

"What now?" She demanded. 

"You got to know each other." Missandei said as the other two giggled. "It wasn't just a dance; it was a date." 

"It wasn't." Sansa said, though she had to admit to herself that they had a point. 

"It was!" Margaery said. "I've known Sandor for years, and he's never mentioned his residency once. I asked about it one time, and he said 'picked burns.'" Margaery imitated his low voice. "If he told you anything more than that, he likes you." 

Margaery grinned at her triumphantly. Sansa looked at the other two girls, who both seemed to be pointedly looking away. 

"Fine, let's say he does like me." Sansa conceded after a moment. "What do I do with that information? Reveal myself at the club? Bring it up at the hospital?" 

"No," Margaery said thoughtfully. "I suppose you would treat him like anyone else for the time being." 

Sansa sighed and leaned back in her chair. She couldn't deny the little crush she had on Sandor now, but there was too much baggage attached to it already for her to give it any serious regard. 

She said a silent prayer of thanks when Margaery changed the subject, asking Daenerys excitedly about when Daario would be visiting again. 

Daenerys replied coyly, twisting her hair around her fingers, but Sansa didn't comprehend what they were talking about. She had to keep clear boundaries in her head now. Alayne has a crush on Sandor. Sansa works with Dr. Clegane. She couldn't let the two lives blend together. 

But blend together they did. Sansa had formed an unlikely friendship with Tormund after their awkward exchange outside the records hall. They teased each other relentlessly, and Sansa found they fell into an easy brother/sister dynamic, save the suggestive questions he'd occasionally pose. 

Sansa had started joining him for lunch every day in the cafe. Margaery or Ygritte would join them occasionally. 

"So are you getting fucked?" Tormund asked a few weeks later. 

Sansa balked and stuttered in response. 

"Take that as a 'no.'" He said with a dark chuckle. 

Sansa smacked his arm in response, though he wasn't wrong. 

"I don't want to get fucked." She replied loftily after a moment. 

Tormund snorted. "The only girls that say that are the ones who haven't been fucked properly." Tormund gave her a knowing look, and Sansa blushed. 

"Is it our dear Dr. Clegane you want?" Tormund asked after a few moments, grinning hard at Sansa's scowl. "His meaty fingers you imagine up your twat?" 

Sansa stood abruptly and began to gather her belongings as Tormund roared with laughter. 

"Clegane!" He exclaimed suddenly, a broad grin across his face. 

Sansa jumped and followed Tormund's enthusiastic gaze. She cursed to herself as she saw Sandor approach hesitantly. 

"Pig." She muttered to Tormund, who laughed again. 

"Join us for lunch!" Tormund said, throwing his arms wide. 

"Please excuse me." Sansa said as she fumbled with her phone, trying to stuff it down into her purse. "I must be getting back. Good afternoon, Dr. Clegane." 

Sansa gave his shoulder a polite nod and smile, without meeting his gaze and hurried away, scowling to herself at Tormund's howl of laughter. 

She was still red in the face when she returned to her desk, quickly setting about her data entry tasks. It was just an hour before end of day when she got an email notifying her of requests from the burn department. She sighed to herself as she opened it, and was glad to see that most of the requests had been from Tormund. 

She gathered the files quickly and hurried up to level 9. She was psyching herself up to insist on leaving the whole stack with Ygritte, but found when the doors of the lift opened that Tormund, Sandor, and Dr. Dondarrion stood in their little lobby, clearly arguing. 

"-the safest bet." Dr. Dondarrion was saying as Sansa stepped off the lift. "She's young, with a graft she should fully recover." 

"She might not require a graft though." Sandor was insisting. "If my research is right, she might just-" 

"And if your research isn't right?" Dr. Dondarrion cut across him smoothly. "What then? Let the girl be disfigured because you wanted to run an experiment?" 

Sandor snarled and Sansa quickly stepped forward. 

"Afternoon, doctors!" She said cheerily, focusing on separating the files in her arms. "Dr. Dondarrion-?" 

Sandor cut her off. "My method might work, you have no idea." 

"Only the Lord of Light can decide life or death or fate." Dr. Dondarrion said smoothly. "All we can do is follow procedure."

"Even if the procedure is outdated?" Sandor shot back instantly. "Procedure on burn treatment hasn't been updated in-" 

"Because the procedure we have now works!" Dr. Dondarrion cut him off. 

Sansa nudged Dr. Dondarrion's arm with his requested charts, and he took them from her without comment. 

"And for you, Dr. Giantsbane-" she began. 

"The procedure we have doesn't work!" Sandor thundered, throwing his hands in the air. "She could leave more disfigured than she came if we attempt a graft now." 

"Just as she would if we wait." Dr. Dondarrion replied, crossing his arms. 

Dr. Dondarrion and Sandor glared at each other for a long moment before Tormund spoke. 

"What do you think, Sansa?" He asked. 

"Me?" Sansa squeaked, flinching a little as Dr. Dondarrion and Sandor both turned to face her. 

"Yes, you. How do you think we should decide course of treatment?" Tormund grinned at her obvious discomfort. 

"Oh. Um." Sansa fiddled with the corner of the papers in her arms. "I would say that… as long as you are confident that the most invasive approach could still succeed after attempting the less invasive, then you should do the less invasive first." 

Sandor grinned triumphantly at Dr. Dondarrion, crossing his arms. 

"But…" Sansa continued after a moment. "If the less invasive procedure is untested, and the long-term effects unknown, it would be wiser to continue a treatment where her doctors are confident in the outcome." 

Sandor glowered at her as Dr. Dondarrion gave Sandor a smug look, and Sansa quickly dropped her eyes from Sandor's face. He looked angrier than she'd seen him yet, and this was the closest they'd been since he started seeing her at the club.

"Well there you have it, Clegane." Dr. Dondarrion said smugly. "Your method is untested, so we shall move forward with mine." 

Dr. Dondarrion retreated quickly through the double doors into the ward, Sandor glowering after him murderously. 

"These are for you." Sansa said after a moment, brandishing the papers toward Tormund as though nothing had happened. "And Dr. Clegane, these are-" 

"Just because it hasn't been properly tested doesn't mean I'm not right." He snapped, finally looking at Sansa. "He's about to perform unnecessary surgery on that girl because of you. I could've helped her." 

Sansa recoiled for a moment, then grew angry. 

"If you think you've discovered something that could change how burns are treated, Dr. Clegane," she said sharply, drawing herself up to her full height. "Then I would recommend you apply for a clinical trial. I would be happy to bring you copies of the necessary applications." She brandished the last papers out to him, practically pressing them into his chest. "Here are the documents you requested. Please tell me if there is anything else I can do to assist you." 

Sansa turned on her heel and marched toward the elevator, crossing her arms after she pushed the button. 

"She got you there." Tormund laughed as the lift opened. 

"Fuck off, Tormund." Sansa said sharply as the lift doors opened. "Afternoon, Dr. Clegane." She stepped into the lift and hit the button for the basement, breathing heavily. 

She heard Tormund guffaw as the lift doors shut. 

"I like her." She heard Ygritte say, and Sansa smiled a little to herself as the lift descended. 

Margaery gave her a curious smile when Sansa returned. Sansa glared back at her and settled back into her desk. There wasn't enough time left in the day for Sansa to continue data entry, and she found herself scrolling absentmindedly through the chart Sandor had requested. 

14 year old boy. Trapped beneath a wardrobe. Coded and brought back. Sansa's breath caught as she realized this was the patient Sandor had told her about. Sansa felt a twinge of guilt, like she was reading a diary, as she skimmed over the chart. 

Her heart pounded in her chest as she read Sandor's notes. She could feel emotion behind the words he'd written, speaking of the boys' determination and will, and how that attitude could affect patient outcomes. 

Sansa sank back into her seat, chewing her lower lip, and thinking frantically. Margaery and Podrick bade her farewell, but Sansa remained. 

She quickly scooped her phone out of her desk drawer and called Arya. She cut across Arya's pleasantries. 

"I'm so sorry to ask Arya, can you pick up Lyanna from daycare and keep her for a couple hours?" 

"Why?" Her nosy sister asked pointedly. 

"Something's come up at work that I need to look into." Sansa explained. She already had a pen between her fingers and had pulled her notepad closer. 

"Something at work? You fucking a hot doctor?" 

"Arya!" Sansa chided. "It's not like that, just some extra research." 

Arya hummed a little, and Sansa could tell that she was drawing it out on purpose, to pull more information from her.

"Please, Arya. I'm asking nicely." 

"Fine." Arya sighed. "But you owe me more information." 

Sansa agreed quickly and disconnected, scooting her chair forward. She began typing, finding old emails with requested charts, pulling those charts back up. She found her search fruitless rather quickly, finding most of the charts were purely medical and did not include any personal notes from doctors. 

Sansa leaned back for a moment, tapping her pen against her lip as she considered. There were no notes of willingness to live. She considered the charts with bad outcomes. Many of them had noted that they requested a visit from a social worker. She considered for a moment, then searched for the records through the social work portal. 

She gasped a little when she opened the first file she searched for. This chart had everything. Emergency room visits, social work visits, physical therapy notes, more information on follow ups. 

Sansa breathed hard for a few moments, and then began frantically pulling all of Sandor's requested charts through the social work portal. An hour later, she was kneeling on the floor surrounded by charts. Her heart was pounding with excitement as she tried to sort through the files, papers frequently fell from her fingers as she tried to stack them in an order that made sense. 

She gathered the papers into her arms finally and rushed into the lift, pounding the button for level 9. She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, hoping for once that Dr. Clegane was still in his office. 

Sansa hurried through the burn unit to Sandor's office. Her heart sank when she saw the lights off and the door closed. She sighed and leaned against the wall. She couldn't very well leave this pile on his desk, her scribbled notes held to the top by the sticky strip on the note. 

Sansa pouted a little as she returned to the lift, tucking the stack of papers into her bag. She would have to gather her courage all over again in the morning. She walked slowly through the hospital and out the front doors. When she finally focused her eyes forward, she saw the shape of a large man ahead of her. A very large man. 

"Dr. Clegane!" She heard her voice without fully registering her decision. She cursed to herself when the huge shape of a man stopped to wait for her. She broke into a jog and was out of breath by the time she reached him. "I found something." She said as she stopped a few feet from him. 

She avoided his eyes as she pulled the papers from her bag. 

"I looked at the chart you requested today, the boy." She said, fumbling with the stack of papers for the boys chart. She finally retrieved it with a triumphant grin, flipped to the right page, and brandished it towards Sandor. "You wrote at length about this young man's spirit. His determination." 

Sansa took the opportunity to step to his side a little as he focused on the page, hoping he wouldn't make an effort to look her in the eye. 

She waited a moment, watching his eyes flash back and forth across the page. She bounced on the balls of her feet again, and her heart leapt a little when Sandor's brow creased at something he'd written 10 years ago. 

"I started looking at other charts." She said after a while. "The other kids. There weren't notes there about their state of mind. Just whether a surgeon requested a social worker. 

His eyes flashed briefly to hers, then to the papers in his hands, then the large stack cradled in her arms.

"Over here." He said gruffly, leading her to his huge black truck and whipping his glasses out of the breast pocket of his shirt. He laid the boy's file on the hood, and turned back toward her a little. 

She froze for a moment, trying to steady her breath as their eyes locked, then she laid a stack of papers on the hood. 

"I started looking up the children with social worker requests through the social work portal, and their whole chart is here. Emergency room, surgery, social work, followup. Everything." 

She pushed the stack in his direction a little. 

"These patients were kids who did not have a successful recovery. And looking through the full charts, I can see that there was almost always something else at play. Their parents were absent, or abusive, or their needs were not being met. They wouldn't have been able to have a positive outlook on their recovery, because there was too much else to worry about." 

Sansa looked back down at the pile of papers in her arms as Dr. Clegane touched the new stack she'd brandished before, leaning slightly forward to look down at them.

"I don't know if you realize," Sansa said as she dropped another stack on his hood. "But every patient on the pediatric floors gets a visit from a social worker, no matter what." She patted the stack she had just put on the hood. "These are patients who fully recovered, whose social workers said they were loved and treasured." 

She hovered anxiously behind him for a moment as he regarded the numerous chats she'd dropped on the hood of his truck, flicking through them each in turn. A short time later, he turned to face her, his wire glasses still perched on his nose. 

"Don't you see?" She asked excitedly. "You need to partner up with a psychologist! The mental state of the patient is clearly a factor in recovery, you need a psychologist to review these charts and find the link." 

She gave him a triumphant grin as he pulled his glasses off the bridge of his nose, silently regarding the piles of charts on the hood of his truck. 

"Well?" She asked excitedly after a few moments. 

"Aye, you may be on to something." He conceded, and Sansa swelled with pride. "You also may have just tossed out every spec of research I've done so far." 

She felt the hurt look spread across her face in spite of herself, then glared at him. She scoffed and turned on her heel, stomping away. 

"Girl?" He called after her and she shot another glare over her shoulder. 

"Still don't know my name then, Sandor Clegane?" She spat as she continued her march towards her own car. 

A few minutes later she wrenched the car door open and dropped into her seat, breathing hard. She didn't know exactly what she had expected from Clegane at her discovery, but she thought he'd at least say 'thank you.' She scoffed again as she started the car and pulled out, heading for Arya's. 

She walked in and found Lyanna and Gendry playing on the floor. Arya was tidying in the kitchen, but stopped and poured a glass of wine for Sansa as soon as she saw her sister's face. 

She accepted the wine and told Arya what had happened, carefully skirting any information about Lost Ones or Sandor also unknowingly being her customer. 

"So it was a hot doctor, then?" Arya said with a smirk as Sansa finished. 

Sansa smacked her sister's arm. 

"It's not like that." She said. Her inner voice made a snide comment about how often she'd said that particular phrase lately. 

"What about this Tormund though? Sounds like he's DTF." 

"Arya!" Sansa smacked her sister again, and Arya snickered into her own wine. 

Sansa set her glass down and dropped her face into her hands, rubbing her temples. 

"Why don't we keep Lyanna for the night?" Arya said after a few minutes. "Call that girl you work with, the annoyingly perky one who called me 'sweetling.'" 

Sansa snorted at the memory of Arya's face when she'd met Margaery. Arya had just been bringing her lunch at the hospital, and Margaery had cornered her. 

"Call your friend and go get a drink." Arya said, giving Sansa's hand a pat. "It's Friday night, have some fun."

Sansa nodded. "Thank you, Arya." 

Sansa collected her purse, kissed Lyanna goodnight, and returned to her car. Her phone rang as she unlocked it, showing an unknown number. 

"Hello?" She answered it after a moment's hesitation. No answer. "Hello?" She repeated, then hung up, shaking her head as she dialed Margaery. 

Sansa could practically hear Margaery jumping up and down with excitement. 

"Yes, darling! Oh this is perfect, I was going to meet some of the girls anyways. Come to my flat!" 

Sansa walked into Margaery's flat without knocking, greeting Shae, whom she saw first. Shae smiled and gave her a little hug. 

"I think I'm underdressed." Sansa said worriedly, looking down at the blouse and slacks she'd worn to work. Shae wore a wispy pink halter dress that fell to her knees, her curly hair swept up elegantly. She wore heels and her makeup was done, though less than she would've worn at the club. 

"Margaery has already been laying out your options." Shae rolled her eyes and Sansa groaned a little. 

"I thought we'd just go to Iron Price?" Sansa asked, setting her purse on the counter. 

"Oh no, we're doing something special tonight. Daenerys has her man visiting from Vaes Dothrak." Shae said with a knowing smile. 

"That Daario she's mentioned?" Sansa asked interestedly. 

Shae gave her a knowing smirk and shook her head, and Sansa rolled her eyes with a small laugh, heading for Margaery's room. 

She found Margaery in front of her mirror, dressed in a backless turquoise cocktail dress, holding up two dresses in front of her. One was a red bodycon with a plunging neckline, the other was a forest green babydoll style. 

"Which one?" Margaery spun to face her, brandishing the dresses. 

"The one you're wearing looks great." Sansa said with a furrowed brow. 

"No, which one for you?" Margaery said with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. 

Sansa accepted the dresses and took Margaery's place in front of the mirror. 

"The red, I think." Sansa said. Margaery squealed in excitement and Sansa couldn't help laughing a little as she stripped off her work clothes and put on the dress, silently thanking the Gods that she'd worn one of her new push up bras today. 

Margaery set to work on her hair, and Sansa did her makeup. They decided to leave her hair up in her high pony, but curled the loose hair instead of leaving it straight. 

Sansa put in her contacts and applied a red lipstick to match the dress. Margaery insisted on strappy black heels, and Sansa put on the gold jewelry that Margaery and Daenerys had given her on her first night. She couldn't help smirking at her reflection a little when she stood in front of the mirror again. One thing she loved about dancing was how much confidence she was gaining back. She felt like she was 19 again, going out with her girlfriends from uni. Before Joffrey, before Uncle Petyr, before Ramsay. 

She gave her head a little shake to push them from her mind, then turned and grinned at Margaery. They linked arms as they left Margaery's room, and the 3 of them left the flat. 

"Alayne!" Margaery caught her arm as she started toward the parking lot. "We're taking a cab, darling. We'll be in no shape to drive after we party Dothraki style." 

Sansa burst into giggles as the girls piled into the cab. Margaery gave the driver the address, then settled back in the middle seat and started showing Sansa pictures of Daenerys's Dothraki consort, Drogo. 

"He's gorgeous!" Sansa gasped. 

"He's a street fighter, never been defeated. See how long his hair is?" Margaery pointed out the long black braid that hung over his shoulder in one picture. 

They finally stopped in front of a club. Sansa took in the sight before her as Shae paid the cabby. The club appeared to be mostly outdoors. The bar lined the space with a dance floor taking up the middle. There appeared to be a patio around the back, but Sansa couldn't tell. The music was blaring and lights flashing. 

"Alayne!" Margaery caught her attention, and Sansa rushed forward to show her ID to the man at the door. 

They entered the club and Daenerys waved at them, "Blood of my blood!" She cheered, Sansa raising an eyebrow as Drogo and his Dothraki friends raised her cups and cheered at her use of the phrase. 

The girls quickly had drinks passed to them, and Daenerys introduced them to Drogo. A couple of his friends quickly approached, one of them grabbing Margaery's attention right away. 

"This is Rakharo." Daenerys introduced Sansa to Drogo's friend. 

"I'm Alayne." She said, offering her hand. She chatted with the man for a few minutes, then noticed Doreah was eyeing him. Sansa beckoned her over and introduced them, then broke away to look for Shae. 

She found her on the other side of the dance floor sitting with Bronn, Tyrion, and Podrick. 

"Glad you could make it, Alayne." Pod smirked at her. 

"Those Dothraki girls know how to party." Bronn said longingly, watching the group. 

"So go over there." Sansa said with a smirk. 

"He's afraid." Tyrion hiccuped a little. "Worried that one of those girls will best him in a fight and he'll lose his hair." 

They all laughed as Bronn patted his hair protectively. Sansa was already feeling the effects of the alcohol as she downed her drink and ordered another. 

It wasn't long before Sansa was properly drunk and let Shae drag her onto the dance floor. They danced wildly, jumping up and down and cheering for several songs before a man approached. 

He caught Sansa's arm and gave her an appreciative look down her body. Sansa pulled her arm away and shook her head at him, then turned back to Shae. She felt the man's hands on her waist and glared at him over her shoulder, pushing him firmly away. She saw the concern across Shae's face as the man grabbed Sansa again, pulling her sharply into him. Sansa twisted away from him, yelled "fuck you" even though it couldn't be heard over the music, and looked around for Bronn. 

She felt a firm hand on her shoulder and twisted sharply, then sighed in relief when she saw that the hand belonged to Tormund. Tormund advanced on the man, giving him his signature Free Folk crazy eyes, and the man retreated quickly.

Sansa threw her arms around Tormund in thanks, and he stayed with them to dance for a few minutes. Shae squeezed Sansa's arm and disappeared after a while, leaving Sansa to dance with Tormund. He leaned down a little to say something to her, but Sansa couldn't hear. He tried again, and she shook her head, confused. He rolled his eyes and guided her off the dancefloor with a hand on her back. 

They reached the edge of the dancefloor and he pointed silently. Sansa looked where he was pointing and her eyes fell on Sandor Clegane just in time to see him choke on his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger! 
> 
> Thank you all so so so much for your comments on the last chapter! I love hearing what you guys think is going through our Main Man Sandor's head and where you think this story is going. I'm also taking suggestions for the ending; it won't be any time soon, but I don't really have a clear picture for an ending yet. 
> 
> Also: I'm going to be updating the tags to include warnings for some of the things I've decided to include in future chapters. I encourage you to regularly check the tags going forward if you have any triggers, and if any readers would like me to include more specific trigger warnings in the chapters that apply, please comment and let me know! 
> 
> love you bye!


	9. Chapter 9

Sansa's first instinct was to flee back onto the dancefloor. The second was to smack Tormund on the back of his head for dragging her over here without a warning. The third was to give Sandor a firm pat on the back because he was still choking. 

Beric smacked him between the shoulder blades, and Sandor waved a dismissive hand at him. Sandor finally met her gaze with wide eyes.

"Alayne." He rasped in greeting. 

Beric looked surprised, looking between Sandor and Sansa, then shooting a confused look at Tormund.

Sansa still stood frozen to the spot next to Tormund, who looked quite pleased with himself. He put his hand back on Sansa's back and guided her forward. 

"Sandor." She said curtly in greeting. She was still mad about their meeting in the hospital parking lot. 

Daenerys bounded over then, knocking into Sansa. 

"Alayne!" Daenerys slurred, clutching at one of Sansa's hands. "This is my new friend, Irri." She gestured to the Dothraki girl she'd dragged with her, who was eyeing Tormund. "My friend thinks your friend is quite charming."

Daenerys batted her eyelashes at Tormund, and Sansa quickly introduced him to Irri. She chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw Beric's one eye flicking from her, to Sandor, to Daenerys, to Tormund, and back again, understanding dawning on his face. Sansa remembered with a twist in her gut that Tormund mentioned Beric taking notice of Daenerys that one night they'd all come to the club. 

"Well, Alayne," Tormund exaggerated her name with a pointed look at Beric, "I think that me and your friend's friend should go see if she has a friend for my friend." Tormund grabbed Beric by the arm and dragged him away, Beric still gaping at her like a fish. 

Sansa took a deep breath and walked toward Sandor, leaning against the bar next to him and waving to the bartender. She ordered a double shot of Wildling Whiskey, and Sandor's hand ghosted over hers as she fumbled in her clutch for the coins. 

"Put it on my tab." He told the bartender. 

"Thanks." She said nervously, folding her hands on the bar and looking cautiously over at him. 

He seemed as nervous as she was, fiddling with the edge of his coaster, the hem of his shirt, the strap of his watch. She had no idea what to do now. Her mind was completely void of any thought or plan, and she quickly took her shot of whiskey, avoiding his gaze. 

"You're here for the Dothraki party over there?" He asked finally. 

"By accident, yes." Sansa said, glancing over at him. He gave her a confused look. "I asked one of the girls if she wanted to get a drink, I had no idea about…" she trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the group in the opposite corner. 

He nodded in understanding, the corner of his mouth twitching. He started to slide his hand towards hers on the bar, but seemed to think better of it and picked up his drink instead. 

"What about you? Why are you here?" Sansa asked curiously. 

"Those sneaky cunts over there." He gestured with his drink toward Tormund and Beric. "They're always inviting me places under false pretenses. No idea this place was a club until we got here." 

Sansa nodded with a small smile, and they fell into an awkward silence. 

"That's how I, uh…" he trailed off, looking down at his hands. "That's how I ended up at Lost Ones that first night. They just told me it was a bar with live entertainment." 

"That's technically true." Sansa said, finally cracking a genuine smile.

"Aye, suppose it is." Sandor chuckled a little, visibly relaxing at her smile. She felt a little tug in her heart at that, and tried to push it down. She was still mad at him, she couldn't afford to get all mushy at his instinct being to assume she didn't want to see him. "It's nice that you're all friends." He said, looking around the room. "I see a lot of the girls, now that I'm looking." 

"Yeah, it is." Sansa smiled. "It's hard to not be close with people that you're naked around on a regular basis." She smirked at him. 

"Er… right." A pink tint was creeping up his good cheek.

"Are you blushing?" Sansa asked with raised eyebrows. "You are!" She teased as his cheek darkened further. 

He ducked his head and raked his hand down his face. 

"Stop," she giggled, reaching out and pulling his hand away from his face. "It's cute." 

"'Cute.'" He repeated with a mirthless chuckle, though he didn't fight her pulling his hand. "Don't think anyone's called me that since I was knee high to a fucking direwolf." 

Sansa threaded her fingers with Sandor's, then looked up at him with a shy smile. He smirked in response, and waved to the bartender. 

"Another beer?" The bartender asked as he approached. 

"And another for the lady." Sandor said. 

"A shot for him too." Sansa said, and Sandor raised his eyebrow. "I'm not doing shots alone." Sansa said with a flick of her hair. 

Boundaries, Sansa reminded herself. Sansa is mad at Dr. Clegane, Alayne has no reason to be mad at Sandor.

Sandor smiled. "Cheers, then." He held up his shot glass. She touched hers against his and they both drank. Sandor coughed a little and Sansa laughed. He shot her a fake dirty look as he took a long pull off his beer. 

Sansa glanced around the club, trying to account for all the girls. Margaery was dancing obscenely with the Dothraki man that had approached her at the beginning. Daenerys was attempting a keg stand as Drogo looked on approvingly. Shae was sitting with Tyrion again, their heads close together to hear each other over the music. Tormund had found Beric a girl to flirt with. 

"Do you need to be getting back to your friends?" Sandor asked, drawing her attention back to him. 

"They appear to be doing fine without me." Sansa smiled at him, and he reached back out for her hand. 

"I'm sorry I didn't come see you last weekend." He blurted suddenly. Sansa quickly masked her surprise. "I felt bad I didn't have a way to let you know. I got pulled into an emergency surgery." 

"Is the patient alright?" Sansa asked, squeezing his hand. 

"Aye, and doing quite well." His mouth twitched. 

"Then it's all worth it." Sansa smiled and scooted her stool closer to his. 

"Do you just work the one night then?" He asked. 

"Yes, just Saturday usually. Been thinking about a second day but between my daughter and my day job, I just don't know if I can swing it."

Sandor didn't respond for a moment and Sansa realized she'd revealed too much. She cursed herself silently, and waited for Sandor to speak. 

"You have a daughter?" He asked softly after a moment. She glanced up at his face and saw he looked genuinely interested. 

"Um, yes. Yes I do." She shifted uncomfortably. 

Her phone vibrated before he had a chance to ask any followup questions. She swept it up and saw a text from Arya. 

"Sorry." She mumbled, quickly unlocking her phone with a furrowed brow. Arya never texted while she had Lyanna unless something was wrong. 

She breathed a sigh of relief and laughed when she saw the picture. Arya's disgruntled face was in one corner of the selfie, and behind her was Gendry asleep on his back with his mouth hanging open, and Lyanna laying on his chest, both appearing deeply asleep. She considered for a moment, then turned her phone around to show Sandor. 

"That's my little girl." She said, pointing to Lyanna. Sandor's eyes softened and he smiled a little. "She's with my sister and her fiancee right now," she pointed to them in turn. 

"She's gorgeous." He said in an affectionate tone. "Looks just like you, except the hair." 

Sansa smiled at him, then looked at the picture again. She waved the bartender for another shot. 

"It was her idea to keep Lyanna tonight, so I could go out." She said as she opened her camera. She carefully posed to look like she was taking a shot and snapped a selfie. 

Sandor chuckled. A moment later her phone buzzed again. She laughed and showed the text to Sandor. 

Arya: WHAT THE FUCK

They both laughed for a moment, and Sansa put her phone away. 

"How old is the little one?" Sandor asked. 

"Three." 

"Not by the cunt who marked you up?" He asked with a furrowed brow, gesturing to her abdomen. 

"The very same." Sansa replied, trying to smile a little but knowing it must've looked forced. 

"You're both safe from him though, yeah?" He set his hand over hers again, looking concerned. 

She felt another pang of affection. "Yes. We're both safe." 

"Well if that ever changes," he said slowly. "I'd be more than happy to intimidate the cunt for you." 

Sansa laughed, squeezing his hand. "I sincerely doubt that will change, but I appreciate that." 

"You got full custody? No visitation?" 

"I took her and left, didn't give him a chance to fight me for it." Sansa was touched by how much Sandor seemed to care that she and Lyanna were safe. "I waited two months to change my number." She heard herself saying, and immediately wanted to kick herself. "In spite of everything he'd done, I still felt terrible for leaving, for taking his daughter and just disappearing. But he never even called." 

Sandor squeezed her hand. "He sounds like a right piece of shit." 

"He is." Sansa agreed, trying to blink tears from her eyes. "Okay, let's talk about something else." She said, waving her hand in front of her as though shooing Ramsay from their conversation. 

"Aye." Sandor agreed, though he stayed silent, watching her carefully. 

"Don't look at me like that." Sansa said. 

"Like what?" He seemed surprised. 

"Like THAT, like I'm broken, like you're pitying me." Sansa broke his gaze and waved to the bartender again. 

"Sorry." He said, but Sansa didn't turn back to him. 

Her fingers flexed on the edge of the bar while she waited for her drink, and she took the shot at once when it had been poured. The bartender filled her glass again before he walked away. 

"Hey, stop. Come here." She felt Sandor's large, rough hand on her elbow, and let him tug her into his arms. 

Her vision was blurred with tears as she leaned into Sandor's chest, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He stroked the back of her shoulders with the fingertips of one hand, the other resting against the small of her back, just silently holding her as she composed herself. She tucked her head under his chin and let her arms circle his waist. She took a deep breath and caught a whiff of his cologne; cedar, pine, and sandlewood. 

She sighed, forgetting for a moment where she was, who she was with. They were surrounded by people, people they worked with, who would be very interested to see the way he was holding her. For a moment, none of that mattered. 

"Do you wanna get outta here?" Sandor asked softly after a moment. Sansa stiffened. "Oh God, no, not like that! I just meant maybe somewhere quieter. Nevermind, I'm sorry, forget it." 

Sansa pulled away from him and saw his good cheek bright red. He was avoiding her gaze. 

"Where would we go?" She asked softly, trying to hide her smirk when his eyes snapped to hers. 

"I have no idea." He said with a chuckle. 

Sansa sat back on her own stool, but scooted it closer to him until their legs were touching, and set her hand on his arm. 

"So you really came out with all your friends and want to spend your evening with an ugly fucker like me?" He said after a moment. His tone was light, but his eyes betrayed his sadness. 

"You're not ugly." She replied, linking her fingers together around his bicep. "And yes, I think I would quite enjoy spending the evening with you." 

The corner of his mouth twitched. "You're a very strange girl." He said after a moment, then took another drink of his beer. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Sansa threw back a shot and jumped to her feet.

"Dance with me." She said, tugging at Sandor's elbow. 

"No." He said immediately with an incredulous chuckle. 

"Come on, dance with me." Sansa insisted. She was pulling his arm, but he gave no indication that he could even feel her. 

"I'm not the dancing type, little bird." He replied, shaking his head. 

"A man can change." She gave him a suggestive look, then turned away from him and started back towards the dancefloor. 

She bit her lip to hide her triumphant grin when she heard the scrape of his stool as he stood up. A moment later she felt his hand on her waist. 

"You'll be the death of me, woman." He grumbled in her ear. 

She turned around and leaned into his chest, standing on her toes to reach his ear. "Most people consider dancing to be a fairly safe activity." She let her lips graze their way down his cheek as she dropped back down. She took his hand and kept walking, leading him deep into the dancefloor. 

When she turned to face him, he looked distinctly uncomfortable, glancing around nervously at the people dancing around them. It was oddly endearing, this huge, menacing man looking at dancing people like it was some kind of trap. Sansa took his hands and set them on her hips as she began to dance. She slid her hands up his arms, wrapping one arm around his neck, and setting the other hand gently against his jaw so he would look at her. 

He relaxed a little then, as she pressed her body into his, and slowly started to move with her. His hands slid up to her waist, around her back, and back down again, and Sansa smiled up at him. He leaned down and kissed her. She jumped a little at the unexpected contact and then relaxed, kissing him back eagerly. 

The world seemed to melt away again as Sansa wound the fingers of one hand through his hair, pulling him tighter against her. He circled one hand around her to splay against the small of her back again. He kissed her fiercely, and she was suddenly very grateful for his hand on her back as her knees turned to jelly. 

He broke the kiss, panting a little with his eyes closed. Sansa's hands slid down to his chest, and he lifted his hand from her waist to take one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She felt her cheeks redden and ducked her head. He kissed her hair, and she tucked her head back under his chin, letting her body rest fully against his massive form as they swayed back and forth. 

She was too enraptured at that moment to consider what they looked like then, slow dancing in the middle of a club, surrounded by people jumping and screaming. She couldn't place the feeling she had, spreading through her body from every part of her that touched him; his chin on her head, her hand in his, their chests pressed together. It wasn't the childish infatuation that she felt with Joffrey, nor the fiery passion she had at the beginning with Ramsay. It was something completely different, something she hadn't felt in years. And for some reason, she found herself thinking of her father. The way he'd sweep her up in one arm and Arya in the other when they misbehaved, or his hand on her shoulder while she prayed to the Old Gods. She gasped when she realized the feeling, pulling away enough to look up to his face. 

Safe. 

She felt safe. 

In the arms of this enormous man who held her like she might crumble to dust, a man that could captivate and infuriate her, a man who could be so damn irritating, she felt safe, when she hadn't felt that in years. 

His eyes were soft as he looked down at her, a touch of concern flashing across his face at the look she was giving him. She knew it must've seemed bizarre, to be stared at accusingly all of a sudden. 

"Little bird?"

She saw his lips form the words, but she couldn't hear him. She shook her head a little, then pushed up on her toes to kiss him again. 

'Brave and gentle and strong.' She heard the echo of her father's words, the ones he'd used to describe what he wanted for her. He hadn't liked Joffrey one bit, despite being his oldest friend's son, and told her so quite plainly. 

'Shut up dad,' she thought silently, trying to push his words away. 'It's not like that.' 

'Brave. Gentle. Strong.' 

She mentally gave her father's ghost the finger and could've swore she almost heard his deep laugh. 

Sansa broke their kiss again, clutching the front of his shirt to steady herself. Sandor took one of her hands again and led her off the dancefloor. She glanced around and saw Margaery and Daenerys watching her with smug smiles. She quickly looked away from them and let Sandor lead her out to the patio at the back of the club. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, turning to face her and rubbing her arms. 

"Yes." She breathed, her heart pounding in her throat. 

He shook his head a little and pushed a few stray hairs back away from her face. 

"What are you thinking?" He asked softly, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. 

"I think… that I would like to get out of here after all." Sansa replied slowly, stroking her fingertips down his chest. 

"Yeah?" He asked, his one eyebrow raising in surprise. 

"Yeah." She agreed. "Maybe just walk around for a bit?" 

"Alright, little bird. Go tell your friend and I'll settle up with the bar." He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then moved swiftly away. 

Sansa's heart fluttered as she followed him back inside. She found Bronn first, and he took her phone, quickly showing her how to share her location to him. He pulled her into a side hug and said "be safe" before she hurried off to find Margaery. 

Margaery was nowhere to be found, so Sansa texted her and told Missandei, praying that Margaery wouldn't worry. She made her way to the door and saw Sandor waiting for her. Her step faltered for a moment as she considered what she was doing, but he held his hand out and offered her an easy smile, and her nerves disappeared. She quickly closed the distance between them and took his hand, letting him lead the way out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Had to post something to celebrate Rory McCann's birthday 😉 Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think!!
> 
> Ps, has anybody else not been receiving emails from AO3? I'm not getting any notifications the last week or so and I can't figure out why.


	10. Chapter 10

Sansa didn't open her eyes when she woke up. Her head was pounding too hard. She tried to go back to sleep, but her aching bladder won. She groaned as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Fuck, she didn't take off her makeup. 

She swung her legs off the bed, stretching her arms. The floor was cold and smooth beneath her bare feet. 

Wait. 

Cold and smooth? Where was her carpet? 

Sansa finally opened her eyes and her stomach dropped. This room was completely unfamiliar. She ran through the previous night in her head. She remembered the club, running into Sandor… and then leaving with Sandor. 

She peeked over her shoulder and saw the other side of the bed was empty. She reached out to touch the sheets and found them cool. Her heart pounded as she looked around the room. The bed was huge, with forest green sheets and blankets. The furniture was mismatched, and the mirror that was mounted on the dresser had a sheet thrown over it. The room was spotless, even the hamper was empty. 

Sansa stood slowly. She was sure that she was in Sandor's bedroom, and her heart was pounding in her throat. How did she get here? What had happened? She remembered skipping down the street, insisting at one point that he carry her, lots of Wilding Whiskey and sloppy kisses, but no memory of returning to wherever he lived. 

She looked down at herself as she stood and saw that she was wearing a giant black t-shirt. Scandalized, she wondered briefly if Sandor had taken her dress off her, then realized it didn't really matter, since he'd seen her almost naked before. She wasn't sore between the legs, and surely she would be if they'd… done anything. 

She left the bedroom and found a bathroom quickly. She looked in the mirror as she washed her hands. Her hair was a mess, and mascara was smeared around her eyes. She sighed and did her best to remove the makeup, then combed her fingers through her hair and put her hair in a bun. The game was up, she decided. Surely Sandor would realize who she was now, in the light of day with no makeup and wearing a baggy shirt. 

She took a deep breath to steady herself and left the bathroom. She returned to the bedroom first, to look for her things. She crossed to the large window and moved the curtain. It was still dark outside, the cool stillness of just before dawn. She found her dress and put it back on, and clutched the t-shirt to her chest as she poked around the rest of the room for her shoes, phone, and purse. 

None of her things were in the room, so she took another steadying breath and made her way down the hall. She came into the living room and suppressed a giggle at the sight of Sandor sprawled across the couch. Basketball shorts sat low and tight on his hips, and one of his arms slung across his eyes. She could see now that his burn scars went down to his shoulder, and many other scars decorated his chest and stomach. 

She tore her eyes away from his sleeping form and glanced around the room. She sighed with relief when she saw her purse and phone on the coffee table, her shoes tucked up underneath it. She crossed the room quickly, and felt a sudden pang of sadness in her chest; he'd left two gold dragons sitting on her phone. 

She stared at them for a long moment, then carefully moved the coins off her phone and picked up her belongings. She gave Sandor a long look, not liking the idea of slipping out before dawn without saying anything, but knew that he would recognize her immediately if she woke him. 

She poked around the room and found a pad of paper and pen. She stared at the paper for a long moment; what kind of note could she leave when she couldn't even remember what had happened? She finally settled on 'see you tonight? xo' and set the pad where her phone had been. She carefully placed the coins on the note, and tiptoed to the door, her shoes dangling from her hands. 

She called an uber when she reached the curb outside his apartment building, shivering in the early morning air. It was thankfully deserted, being that it was before dawn on a Saturday morning. A couple cars drove by, but no one on the sidewalk. Just as she began to wonder if that was a third black sedan driving by, or the same black sedan passing for a third time, a silver minivan pulled up to the curb. She climbed quickly into the backseat, realizing as the driver pulled away that Sandor's shirt still hung over her arm. 

The uber dropped her back at Margaery's, and she quickly climbed in her car, tossing her bag, phone, and shoes on the passenger seat. She barely took the time to shrug the dress back off before she collapsed back into bed when she got home. She sent a quick text to Margaery and Bronn that she had made it home in one piece and succumbed to her exhaustion. 

She awoke to awkward prodding against her shoulder and blinked blearily in the dazzling light. She rolled over to investigate the prodding and gasped when she saw Gendry. He was flushed in the face and brandishing her robe, pointedly not looking at her. She snatched the robe and clutched it against her chest. 

"What the hell, Gendry?" She tried to sound scornful but a yawn ruined it. 

"I'm sorry, I swear I tried not to look." He'd turned away from her as soon as she took the robe and was now rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Arya insisted we come check on you when your phone went straight to voicemail, and when she saw your dress in the hall, she said she didn't want to see your… anyway, she made me come in." He explained in a rush. 

"Oh." Sansa couldn't think of anything else to say. 

"Anyways, um, we're going to go pick up lunch. We'll bring Lyanna with us so you can…" 

"Shower away the shame and regret?" Sansa offered sarcastically, swinging out of bed and wrapping herself in the robe. 

Gendry chuckled. "You know, sometimes I think there's no way you and Arya could be related, then you go and say shit like that." He sent a tiny glance over his shoulder and visibly relaxed when he saw her properly covered, turning back to face her. 

"Could you start the coffee pot on your way out, please?" Sansa asked as she plugged in her phone. 

"Is it safe to come in?" Arya called from the hallway. "Is your nakedness appropriately covered?" 

"Come in." Sansa sighed exasperatedly at the same time Gendry said, "It's safe." 

Arya stalked across the threshold and brandished an iced coffee towards Sansa. 

"You're an angel." Sansa mumbled gratefully as she snatched the drink from her sister. She sank back onto the edge of the bed as she drank greedily. 

"Are you still drunk?" Arya smirked as she leaned absentmindedly into Gendry's side. Gendry's arm seemed to snake reflexively around Arya's back and his hand settled on her hip. 

"No." Sansa said scornfully, scowling at her little sister, who sniggered. 

"Was it the hot doctor?" Arya asked, and Sansa noticed Gendry's eyebrows shooting up in interest. He was almost as bad as Margaery. 

Sansa considered for a long moment, sipping at her coffee to stall. Part of her was suddenly overcome with an urge to tell Arya everything, to come clean about dancing, about Sandor, and everything in between. It wasn't that Arya wasn't trustworthy, or Gendry for that matter, but Sansa knew that Arya would just give her a hard time and file the knowledge away, then surely let it slip to Jon or Bran or, Gods forbid, Robb all the way in Volantis. Much to everyone's chagrin and annoyance, Robb had somehow managed to embody both their father's easygoing understanding and their mother's stern disappointment after the death of their parents. Every time Robb had confronted her about a questionable decision since their deaths, she'd felt like their eyes were still boring into her, as though her mother and father flanked Robb in support. 

"Yes." Sansa said slowly. "I'll tell you about it after you bring lunch and I shower." 

Arya's expression hadn't changed, but her emotions danced behind her eyes. As steadfast as she'd been in her refusal to enter Sansa's room without knowing her state of undress, Sansa was sure now that Arya would've gladly perched on the bathroom counter while Sansa bathed if that got her the information sooner. 

Gendry smoothly escorted Arya out of the apartment, Lyanna on his hip, and Sansa checked her phone. She found a single text from Margaery. 

Margaery: DETAILS, DARLING. DETAILS!!!

Bronn hadn't responded, but Sansa expected as much. She dropped her phone back onto her bed and went quickly to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She dropped her robe and regarded her reflection while she waited for the water to heat up. She didn't see any marks; no bruises or hickeys, or anything else to suggest she'd slept with Sandor the previous night. If Ramsay and Joffrey had bruised her up on a regular basis, surely a man like Sandor would've had her pale body black and blue, he was so much bigger and stronger than both of them. 

Sansa stepped into the shower and let the warm water beat against her face. She felt foolish for leaving the note now, given how little she remembered of their evening together. She couldn't even be sure that she hadn't revealed herself as Sansa, blurred as everything was. The only thing to do now was pray that if she had indeed made a fool of herself, Sandor had also been too drunk to remember. 

Sansa took her time in the shower, then dressed quickly in yoga pants and a tank top, emerging from her room just as everyone returned with lunch. 

"Mama!" Lyanna ran to her and Sansa scooped her into her arms, pulling her daughter tight against her chest. Sansa felt a sudden pang of guilt; her mother had never unceremoniously left her with Aunt Lysa or Uncle Benjen so she could go party. A good mother would never do something like that. 

"I can feel you thinking." Arya said suddenly, her sisters disapproving face coming into view. "Lyanna loves spending the night with us, don't you, Lee?" 

"Yay!" Lyanna cheered. "Auntie Yarya and Gen-gen sing with me, mama!" 

"And we love having her." Arya added, giving Lyanna a gentle pat on the back as Lyanna continued to babble on about plums and apple slices. "You're allowed to take a break, you know that? Remember what father always told us?" 

"Winter is coming." Sansa replied, knowing that wasn't what her sister meant. 

Arya's brow furrowed slightly. "The lone wolf dies but the pack survives." Arya quoted. "You came home to your pack for a reason, big sister. Let us help you." 

Sansa nodded, her eyes filling with tears. 

"If you start crying, I'm leaving and taking all this chicken with me." Arya chided, dropping into a chair. "Come here, Lee, let's eat some chicken." 

Lyanna lunged for her aunt, and Arya took her from Sansa's arms, perching her niece on her leg as they ate. Gendry ended up convincing the girls to accompany him to the farmers market. Sansa followed along behind the bickering Arya and Gendry, stopping occasionally to buy a piece of fruit for Lyanna. Most of the stall keepers waved off her coppers, grinning broadly as they offered Lyanna an apple or strawberry. 

After the market they walked to a nearby playground. Arya gave Gendry a meaningful look as they approached, and Gendry unbuckled Lyanna from her stroller, holding her hand as they walked onto the playground. 

"So tell me about the doctor." Arya instructed as she and Sansa settled on a bench. 

Sansa stalled by taking a long drink of her boba tea, slowly chewing the tapioca pearls to buy time. She still hadn't decided whether to fess up to Arya about her new side hustle as a dancer. After a long moment under Arya's expectant stare, Sansa finally decided against it. 

"It's the doctor I told you about last night…" she began slowly, "he's quite surly and unfriendly at the hospital. I've run into him a few times at bars and clubs, and he's completely different then, but he doesn't seem to recognize me…" 

Sansa explained as much as she could while omitting Lost Ones, like she had just been out with friends the first time she met Sandor outside the hospital. 

Arya didn't interrupt or interject as Sansa explained, her face staying suspiciously unreadable. Sansa finished with how she'd woken up this morning; Sandor had clearly tucked her into his bed and then slept on the couch, and Sansa was quite touched at the gesture. 

Arya was silent for a long few minutes as she considered all Sansa had told her. Sansa watched Gendry and Lyanna on the playground. He was chasing her as she hid in incredibly obvious spots, wondering loudly where she could've gone, then making a lunge for her hiding spot, laughing as Lyanna squealed and ran away from his arms. 

"I like Gendry." Sansa announced after a while, to break the awkward silence between her and her sister. She hadn't met him before she came home. "I'm glad that you found someone who makes you happy. Gods know Lyanna needs a male role model who isn't complete rubbish." She tried for an easy laugh but cringed at how forced it sounded. 

"Sans…" Arya said slowly, and Sansa stiffened. "I think you might be overcorrecting." Arya gave her sister a sympathetic look. "You were with Joffrey, then Ramsay; both of them were pretty blokes, but ugly and evil on the inside. It… it sounds to me like you're looking for the antithesis in this Sandor; you want to believe he's good on the inside, because he's ugly on the outside." 

"He's not ugly." Sansa immediately replied. Arya raised her eyebrows at Sansa's stern tone. Sansa blushed as she hurriedly continued, "he has obvious scarring, yes, but he is still quite handsome." 

"Oh Sans…" Arya shook her head, a sympathetic smile on her face. "You got it bad already." 

Sansa scowled at her sister, who shook her head slowly in response. 

"I love you, big sister," Arya set her hand on Sansa's, "I just don't want to see you hurt again. Your taste in men has been shit so far, I don't want to see you sucked into another Ramsay situation because you want to see the best in someone who doesn't deserve it." 

Sansa nodded slowly, eyes on Lyanna. 

"You left Ramsay for Lyanna, so she wouldn't grow up thinking the way he beat you was normal." Arya continued. Sansa winced at Arya's directness. "Don't trade him in for someone who's 'just' rude." She made air quotes with her fingers. 

Sansa nodded in acknowledgement to her sister's advice. Arya thankfully dropped the subject and rose from the bench to join Gendry and Lyanna on the playground. She decided Arya was right: just because Sandor had shown some sensitivity to a stripper didn't mean that he deserved the time of day from Sansa. At least not until he started being polite to her at the hospital. 

She rose from the bench as well as Gendry began to chase and grab at Arya, who squealed and ran away. Sansa scooped her daughter into her arms and carried her to the swings. Sansa had to admit it felt strange to be single and alone after so many years spent with another person; even with how terrible Joffrey and Ramsay had been to her, they'd still slept beside her every night, and Sansa still hadn't grown fully accustomed to sleeping alone. That was no reason to rush into something new though, she reminded herself. It was best for Lyanna if she stayed single for now; Lyanna needed a mother who was brave and strong, not a mother who would accept a man into her bed mere minutes after he'd beat her bloody. 

Sansa settled Lyanna into a swing and shuddered at the idea of her sweet daughter grown up and with a man like Joff or Ramsay. She would beat her fists bloody if a man like that ever laid a hand on Lyanna, and for her daughters sake, she needed to make sure that Lyanna was only ever around men who were brave and gentle and strong, and Sandor only fit that description outside the hospital, when he interacted with Alayne. Sansa sternly reminded herself that she and Alayne were not the same person, and she resolved not to let Alayne's fondness for Sandor spill over into Sansa's own life. There was too much at stake to even consider letting that happen. 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket as she pushed Lyanna's swing, and she fished it out of her pocket. She smiled at Margaery's text, which was just seven question marks, and quickly typed a reply, suggesting they meet at Iron Price for drinks before work. 

She barely spared a glance to the black sedan that slowly came around the cul-de-sac where the park was located, smiling down at her phone as Margaery accepted her invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter is a little filler-y, but we're back in the action with the next chapter! It's like 10,000 words so far so I might have to break it up but we'll see. 
> 
> Please let me know your thought!!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Margaery had seemed wholly disappointed when Sansa said she had little recollection of the night before. She'd perked up some when Sansa admitted to having a full-on crush on Sandor now, but her brow furrowed again when Sansa explained she didn't know what to do. 

"I just have such a hard time believing he doesn't recognize you." Margaery said finally, shaking her head. 

"What else could it be?" Sansa asked. She was a little incredulous herself, honestly. "From what you've told me, he wouldn't have let me know him like this if he realized we had any other connection." 

Margaery nodded thoughtfully, her fingers tracing the stem of her wine glass. 

"What do I do?" Sansa urged her friend. 

"It all depends on tonight, I suppose." Margaery said after a while. "You just have to let him take the lead as far as talking; figure out what he remembers of last night." 

Sansa nodded, still feeling exasperated; Margaery hadn't told her anything she didn't already know. 

"So…" Margaery continued pointedly after a few moments. "Did you sleep with him?" 

"I don't think so…" Sansa replied softly after a moment. She was quite embarrassed about not being sure. "I haven't been with anyone since Ramsay, and I'm not sore or anything…" 

Margaery nodded solemnly, then quickly changed the subject to gossip about Tyrion and Shae leaving together. Sansa tried to nod along and look appropriately scandalized, but she secretly liked the idea of Tyrion and Shae. 

"Are you nervous?" Margaery asked suddenly as they crossed the street an hour later. 

"Yes." Sansa ducked her head, embarrassed at the admission. "What if he doesn't come?" He shot a nervous glance at Margaery. 

"Then on Monday we'll ask Tormund what happened." Margaery shrugged. 

Sansa's chest fluttered at the idea of asking Tormund. Then again, he'd accused her of having a crush on Sandor so many times now that he surely wouldn't be surprised if she approached him for advice. 

They entered through the back of the club and found a fuming Ros tossing Myranda's things in the bin. 

"Ding dong, is the witch gone?" Margaery asked interestedly. 

"That fucking cow didn't show up last night." Ros said sharply. "Didn't answer calls from any of us, I had Bronn out all night and day looking for her, and she just finally sent me a text that she's quitting." 

"At least she's gone?" Margaery offered, patting Ros on the shoulder as she swept past. "It is terribly awkward to have someone so vicious here, refusing to make nice with anyone." 

"True, that." Ros agreed. She put the bin aside and sank into a chair. "Alayne, darling, I couldn't help but notice you seem to have a regular already." 

Sansa blushed hard. "Yes, Sandor. I actually ran into him last night." 

"Went home with him last night." Margaery corrected with a smirk. 

"Spill!" Ros instructed, crossing her legs and leaning back on the chair. 

Sansa laughed and nodded. The girls gossiped together as Sansa and Margaery got ready for the evening and the other girls trickled in. Daenerys bounded in last, looking flustered. She had a very noticeable hickey just under her jaw and her hair was disheveled. Missandei and Doreah immediately jumped on her and she giggled before telling them in graphic detail about her night with Drogo. 

Sansa left the dressing room with Margaery and Ros, finding an exhausted looking Bronn leaning against the bar with Jorah and Barristan. 

"Did you find her?" Ros asked, annoyance clear in her voice. 

"Aye, all the way at the fucking Dreadfort." Bronn confirmed, shaking his head. 

Sansa's blood went cold. Ramsay's father owned the Dreadfort, he forced everyone to call him Lord Bolton. 

Ros didn't seem to notice the change in Sansa as she stalked away to her office. Margaery bounded away and accosted Shae for details about Tyrion. Jorah and Barristan went to the front to unlock the doors, leaving Sansa alone with Bronn, who was swirling red wine around his cup. 

"That bloke treat you alright last night?" He asked, glancing at Sansa. 

"Bronn…" she said slowly, taking a step forward. 

"Ah fuck, lass, he's a big fucker, I don't know if I can take him." Bronn frowned. 

"No, Sandor was a perfect gentleman, it's not him." Sansa waved her hand dismissively. Bronn's frown deepened and he straightened up off the bar. "My ex, his father owns the Dreadfort." Sansa explained. "I left him a few months ago, but I've been getting strange calls from unknown numbers, seeing a lot of black sedan's. It's probably nothing, and not related to Emma at all-" 

"But it might be." Bronn cut her off and Sansa exhaled with relief that he didn't mock her. "Show me a picture." He handed her his phone, and she quickly pulled up Ramsay's Instagram. 

"I didn't see a cunt like this while I was in the area." Bronn assured her as he scrolled down the feed. "I approached her in a market, just long enough for her to tell me that she was safe. But I'll look into it, text me details, full name, name day, address, description, as much as you can, every bit helps. And anything odd happens again, tell me right away." 

"Thank you, Bronn." Sansa hugged him and he took the opportunity to give her rear an appreciative pat. 

"Just doing my job, love." He winked then downed his wine. "I need to fucking sleep." He pushed off the bar, then nodded in acknowledgement to someone over her shoulder. 

Sansa turned and saw Sandor standing awkwardly behind her; he'd clearly been waiting for them to finish their conversation before he approached. 

"Glad you behaved yourself, friend," Bronn joked as he swung his jacket around his shoulders, "wasn't looking forward to fighting you if you'd laid hands on this sweet girl." 

Sansa smacked Bronn's arm and frowned at him, but the men were sharing an easy smile.

"Please try not to need me." Bronn said to her in farewell as he walked away. 

Sansa watched him go, then turned back to Sandor. 

"Hi." She said softly, looking up at him. 

"Hi." He replied, finally stepping closer. 

There was awkward silence for a moment, then Sansa sighed and asked, "how much did you hear?" 

"I'd only been there a moment," he told her with a frown. "Just enough to deduce that someone's been bothering you?" 

"It's probably nothing," she tried for a reassuring smile. 

Sandor looked unconvinced, then flagged the bartender. He ordered them each a drink, then Sansa led him back to their normal room. He immediately placed his coins on the table and Sansa averted her eyes; she really hated the transaction part but there was no way around it. 

They settled on the couch and Sansa waited nervously. She didn't know how to broach the topic of spending the night together, and suspected he didn't either. He'd come though, he had come to see her; the ball was in her court. 

"Did you, um… have fun last night?" She asked finally, peeking shyly at him. 

He smirked. "'Course I did. Never been picked up at a bar like that before." 

She blushed hard and he chuckled. "I don't remember much after we left the club," Sansa admitted, hoping he'd get the hint and fill her in on whether they'd slept together. "Took me a few minutes to figure out where I was." 

"Thought that might be the case." He rasped another chuckle. 

"Oh Gods, what did I do?" Sansa groaned, grimacing in anticipation. 

"Don't get anxious, it was all quite amusing." 

Sansa's heart was speeding up. Was he being vague on purpose? Was he just teasing her? It was impossible to tell from the smirk, and Sansa couldn't take it anymore. It was the elephant in the room, and she was going to have to just ask. 

"Didwesleeptogetherlastnight?" She blurted before she could lose her nerve. 

Sandor looked horrified. "Gods, little bird, no! Of course I didn't fucking rape you, you were so pissed I had to carry you up the stairs!" 

"Oh no, I didn't mean to imply-" 

"I'd never do something like that." He jumped to his feet and took a couple steps forward, pushing his hair away from his face and turning his back to her. He was breathing hard. 

"That's not what I meant!" Sansa said forcefully. 

He seemed so angry Sansa hesitated to approach him; she learned from Ramsay to never touch a man when he was angry, that would only make it worse. And Sandor was so strong, he could easily push her to the ground or slam her against the wall. 

Sandor turned and looked at the door and Sansa caught sight of his face. He looked upset, she realized, but not angry. He was panicking again. Sansa leapt to her feet as he started for the door, and she placed herself between them without thinking. For a moment she thought he might push her aside, but she seized his hands in hers. 

"Sandor, look at me! Don't run away again, please listen! I didn't mean it like that, I thought if we had that I was an enthusiastic participant and just didn't remember. I know you'd never rape me." Sansa said earnestly, squeezing his hands. He was staring over her head, still breathing hard. "Look at me." She whispered. "Sandor, look at me." 

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a steadying breath, then finally met her gaze. His eyes softened immediately as he looked down at her. His hands squeezed hers back finally, and he nodded once, then raised their entwined hands to kiss her knuckles. 

"I'm sorry." He rasped. 

"Hush, it's okay." She gave him a tentative smile, 

He nodded again, taking another deep breath as his body started to relax. He held the hand he'd kissed against his chest; Sansa guided his other hand to her waist and he followed her lead, laying his hand on her, then she raised her hand to cup his face. She stroked her thumb across his cheekbone and his eyes slipped shut again. He took a small step forward, so their bodies were almost touching. 

Sanss waited what felt like several minutes before she spoke. "Did you really have to carry me up the stairs?" 

Sandor's eyes opened in surprise, then he barked out a laugh. "Aye, little bird, I did." 

Sansa groaned in embarrassment, and Sandor smiled for real now. Sansa motioned back to the couch, and Sandor followed her lead. 

"Tell me what happened." Sansa said as they sat. She sat close to him this time, to keep their hands threaded together. 

"How much do you remember?" 

"Um." Sansa wracked her brain. "I remember the liquor store. I know at one point I wanted you to carry me, because my feet hurt. I think there may have been a fountain?" 

Sandor laughed again. "Aye, you told me that you left Winter Town for college, and the fountain was installed during the time you said you had spent in the South. I thought you might like it, so I took you there." 

"And did I like it?" She asked. 

"I had to stop you from jumping in." He smirked. Sansa groaned again. "That's when I threw away the bottle too, the liquor seemed to catch up with you once we sat down." 

"What else?" Sansa asked, knowing she must be beet red by now. 

"Really nothing significant." Sandor said. "You told me a bit about college, your family, showed me more pictures of your daughter. I had to stop you from calling your sister, you tried to FaceTime her to sing Lyanna a goodnight song." 

Sansa ducked her head. 

"I only took you back to my place because I didn't want to put you in a cab in your state." He explained. "Plus I'd have had to go through your things to find your ID, to tell the driver where to go. I didn't think you'd like me knowing where you live or your real name without your consent." 

Sansa felt a surge of relief; her identity remained a secret. 

"That's so thoughtful." She said with a smile, squeezing his hand. "I really appreciate that you had so much respect for my privacy." 

He returned her smile, the burnt side of his mouth twitching a little like the muscles weren't used to the movement. 

"We got to my building," he continued, "and you told me you didn't want to impose and you'd be just fine on the ground." 

"What?" Sansa exclaimed, breaking into laughter. 

"Aye, you sat down and everything. Had to throw you over my shoulder to bring you inside. Saw one of my neighbors in the hall, he looked worried for a moment, but luckily you complained the entire way that I should leave you outside." 

Sansa flushed again, dropping her head into her free palm. 

"When we got inside you demanded a tour, but when we got to the bedroom, you took off all your clothes and just collapsed onto the bed." 

Sansa looked at him in horror, and he chuckled again. 

"Did I really?" She asked. 

"Aye, you kept slapping me away when I tried to put one of my shirts on you." 

Sansa's brow furrowed in confusion. "I was wearing a shirt when I woke up." 

"I don't give up easily." She smiled genuinely again. "I left you be while I took a shower. You were dead asleep when I came back, so I thought I better put some clothes on you so you didn't get the wrong idea." 

The words hung heavily in the air for a moment, and Sansa knew they were both thinking of their previous misunderstanding. 

"I'm sorry I was such a handful." She said after a moment, hoping to ease the tension. 

"It was all quite amusing." He said, and Sansa sighed a little in relief as the tension broke again. 

"I can't believe I managed to embarrass myself so thoroughly." She sighed, shaking her head but smiling. 

"Don't be embarrassed." He chuckled, raising his hand to drag one knuckle across her cheekbone. He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "It was nice honestly, seeing that you actually enjoyed yourself with me, that you're not just pretending here." His good cheek flushed as he finished and he ducked his head. 

"I'm not a very good liar." She said with a giggle. "I'm glad that you believe I enjoy your company now." 

They held each other's gaze for a moment, then there was a soft knock on the door. 

"Alayne! Come out here!" A voice called. 

"Daenerys? Come in." Sansa twisted to look at the door, confused.

Daenerys opened the door and took a half step inside. "So sorry to interrupt." She addressed Sandor first. "Ros is about to get on stage." She turned her attention back to Sansa. 

"Are you serious?" Sansa felt her eyebrows shoot up. 

"Yes, come on! She hardly ever does anymore, you have to come and see!" Daenerys closed the door behind her when she left. 

Sansa turned to Sandor. "Do you mind?" She asked excitedly. "She owns the club, I've never seen her on stage before." 

"Go." He encouraged with a smile. 

"It'll just be a few minutes." Sansa said. She took Sandor's hand and led him out of the private rooms. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a treat tonight!" Tyrion began as Missandei left the stage. "We have a very special woman next on our stage. She's fierce. She's beautiful. She's going to blow your mind. Please welcome the ever gorgeous Ros!" 

Cheers erupted around them as Ros took the stage, and Sansa glanced around; almost every customer was watching with anticipation as her first song began. 

Ros moved smoothly to the slow beat of the tragic love song, which told the story of a girl leaving her home at wartime looking for work; the girl was swept off her feet by a man who couldn't care less for her wellbeing. Sansa swallowed tears at the subject matter and the girls cheered as the chorus began and Ros slowly pulled at the ties of her sheer cover, letting it fall down her shoulders and to the floor, leaving her chest bare underneath. 

Sansa watched with awe as Ros moved. She had the full attention of every person in the club, and looked incredibly gorgeous with an easy smile across her face. She couldn't help but glance at Sandor to see what he thought, and blushed deeply when she saw his eyes on her own body. He smirked at the flush in her cheeks and she quickly turned away at the surge of heat that rushed to her core; how could he possibly be looking at her while Ros danced like that? 

Sansa flicked a silver onto the stage as Ros gracefully exited the stage, then turned back to Sandor. He motioned for her to lead the way, and she took his hand again as they threaded through the crowd. 

"She looked amazing!" Sansa exclaimed as she flopped back onto the couch. 

"Didn't notice." Sandor replied gruffly, and Sansa blushed hard again. 

"So what did you have in mind for us tonight? Sansa asked hurriedly to cover her embarrassment. 

Sandor stuttered for a moment, his good cheek suddenly turning red. 

"Tell me!" Sansa urged, incredibly curious what he could've been planning that flustered him so much. 

"I can't say it now, I'd feel like such a twat." He said uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. 

"Now you definitely have to tell me." Sansa said, leaning into the back of the couch and watching him curiously. 

"Maybe later?" He suggested tentatively. 

"Later." She agreed with a smile, and he looked relieved. 

She regarded him interestedly for a moment while he avoided her gaze, and she slowly rose to her feet. His eyes flashed to hers with a look of confusion, but he relaxed at the easy smile she gave him. She attempted to mimic the way Ros had moved as she began to sway her hips and move around the room. She already knew that Sandor couldn't resist seizing her by the hips when she danced for him, like she'd done almost every Saturday since his first appearance at Lost Ones, and she counted on it tonight to find out what he was too shy to tell her he wanted.

She shot him a seductive look over her shoulder as she let her coverup drop down to her elbows, then let it slowly fall to the floor. His eyes lingered on her hips and the curve of her rear as the cover dropped, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the grin from splitting across her face. He reached out for her and she carefully avoided his hand as she twisted away from him, keeping an innocent smile on her lips. She continued to dodge him, letting his fingers occasionally skate across her bare skin for a moment before she turned away and forced his hands to drop. 

"Alayne…" he rasped the low growl after a while, and she turned to him with an innocent look. 

"Yes, Sandor?" She asked sweetly, sauntering forward then slowly turned her back to him. 

His fingers grazed down her rear and she gracefully moved out of arm's reach while she wiggled her hips invitingly. 

She heard the sound he made, somewhere between a growl and a groan, while his eyes betrayed his arousal when he looked up at her. 

"Was there something else you'd like me to do, Sandor?" She asked in her same innocent tone as she let her own hands explore her body. 

His eyes followed her hands, and without thinking she let one hand slip below the waistband of her black thong. She let out an involuntary whimper as her fingers skimmed her clit, letting her eyes slip closed. 

"Come here." Sandor's voice was suddenly more forceful, and she opened her eyes to look at him. "Please." He added after a moment, and she smiled. 

She skated her hand from between her folds and let it trail back up her body as she approached him. 

"Yes, Sandor?" She asked in a breathless whisper. 

She thought she stood far enough still to dodge his hands if they made a real grab for her, so she squealed in surprise when his strong hands circled the backs of her knees and pulled her into his lap. Her hands flew to his shoulders to steady herself as her knees settled on either side of him. He lifted the hand that she'd dipped below her waistband and gently sucked each of her fingers in turn. 

She shot him a fake stern look to cover her surprise, and he responded by nipping at the sensitive skin under her jaw. She couldn't help the shiver that rolled through her body, and knew Sandor must've felt it too. 

"Was there something you wanted to do with me?" She choked out in a breathless whisper. 

Sandor hummed into her neck. "Just this." He responded softly. 

Sansa frowned. This wasn't any different than how he touched her any other night. 

She indulged him for a few moments, sighing and humming as she leaned into his touch. She felt his arousal grow and almost felt bad when she suddenly pulled away from his touch. She had to suppress a laugh when his lips chased her as she leaned back. He looked up at her, his need making his eyes smolder. 

"Tell me." She urged him in a whisper. 

He mumbled and ducked his head. 

"Sandor, look at me." She whispered, bringing her hands up to his face. He peeked up at her and she gave him a reassuring smile. "Tell me what you'd like. I can't do it if you won't tell me." 

He nodded slowly, his hands flexing on her hips, and she bit her lip to contain the thrill of excitement she felt. She promised herself then that whatever it was, she would do it: she had to make sure he knew that he could talk to her. 

"Well… last night…" he began, then sighed and averted his gaze. Sansa squeezed his shoulders. He sighed again. "Last night, obviously I wanted you. I was never going to act on it, of course. But then… when you took off your clothes…" 

Sansa's brow furrowed a little in confusion, but she kept rubbing his shoulders so he would continue. 

"Little bird, you're just so beautiful. You took my breath away. You take my breath away." He raised one hand from her hip and stroked his thumb along her jaw, his eyes following the curve of her throat. He raised his eyes to hers, and his widened slightly at the look on her face. "I didn't touch you." He assured her quickly, "I'd never want to like that, under those conditions. Just… my mind began to wander." 

She relaxed a little at that, and gave him a small smile. He just stared at her for a few moments, blinking up at her in wonderment. 

"Where did your mind wander to, Sandor?" She purred, pushing her fingers up into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He groaned low in his throat as she tugged on his hair. His head rolled back into her hands and his eyes slid shut. His fingers tightened around her hips again and she leaned forward into him, grazing her teeth down his Adam's apple. 

"I want to know what you look like when you come." He growled, his hips jerking up towards her and his fingers tightening even more on her hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little cliffhanger for you. I ended up splitting a mega chapter. Part 2 is ready, but I'm gonna wait a few days because, let's face it, I'm a little bit evil. 
> 
> In other news, I have several first chapters of new fics ready yet, but since I can't seem to focus on any one story for longer than 1 or 2 chapters, I haven't posted any. I'm considering just saying 'fuck it's and posting them all, but I hesitate because I won't be able to post consistently yet for any of them. Opinions? 
> 
> Anyways, please review and let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo welcome to what's probably been my favorite chapter. Please enjoy the smutty goodness, but buckle up for some angst. 😉

She was so surprised by his words that she jerked back to look at his face. He suddenly looked horrified and immediately dropped his hands from her hips. 

"I'm sorry." He rasped. "Just forget I said anything."

Sansa shook her head slightly, still surprised at his request. 

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or do anything you don't want. God, I'm an idiot. Little bird, I'm sorry, I-" 

She placed the fingers of one hand against his mouth to stop his rambling and he fell silent immediately. 

"You just surprised me." Sansa told him with a smile, rubbing his shoulder with her free hand. "I didn't expect you to say something like that." 

He raised one hand to cover the fingers she had against his mouth. He pressed her a little closer, kissing her fingers. He held her gaze as he twined their fingers together. 

"You don't have to do anything." He breathed with a slight shake of his head. 

"I know." Sansa flashed him a smile and the burnt corner of his mouth twitched. "Tell me what you mean." Sansa pressed. "What exactly is it that you want to do?" 

His good cheek flushed red and he ducked his hand down again. Sansa almost sighed in exasperation, shaking her head. Sandor's free hand came back to her hip, lightly tracing little shapes on her skin as he avoided her gaze. 

"Sandor." She murmured, and he hummed without looking up. "I'm planning to say 'yes' if you'll just tell me what I'm getting myself into." 

His head snapped up so fast Sansa thought he might've given himself whiplash. She reflexively reached out to give his neck a sympathetic rub. He stared at her searchingly for a long moment and visibly swallowed before he spoke again. 

"I, um… want you to sit on my lap, just like this." He ran his hands down the curve of her waist and swell of her hips. "I want to touch you, make you come with my hands." His cheeks turned pink and he ducked his head slightly again, his breathing quickened. 

Sansa regarded him closely for a few long seconds, then finally spoke. 

"Okay." 

Sandor's head shot up again. "Okay?" He repeated, his eyebrow raised in surprise.

Sansa giggled, then began to move backwards off his lap. He made an objecting noise and reached for her, but she swatted at his hands and smiled as she rose to her feet. She had to fight to keep her pace slow and steady as she moved to the door and slid the lock into place. She took a steadying breath before she turned back to face him. He watched her hungrily, his eyes scanning up and down her body. Slowly, keeping her eyes on his face, she removed her bralette. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then pushed the thong down her hips as well, and stepped out of them as they fell around her ankles. 

The lacy fabric had barely covered anything to begin with, but Sansa felt vulnerable as she stood completely naked for the first time before Sandor. Well, the second time. She had to fight the urge to cover herself as she slowly walked back towards him. She stopped just in front of where he sat, and he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. She was sure she was blushing furiously, but forced herself to meet his gaze. 

He held his hands out to her and she took them, slowly settling herself back into his lap with her knees on either side of him. She released a shaky breath as she twisted her fingers into the soft black fabric covering his shoulders. She was acutely aware of how exposed her sex was, kneeling like this with her legs spread wide. But Sandor kept his eyes on her face, gazing up at her with something like wonder. 

"Just tell me if you want me to stop." He murmured, then ducked forward to press a hot kiss against the underside of her jaw. "I'm not going to hurt you… I want you to feel safe." 

She leaned her head against his as she nodded, and they exchanged one more look before he moved his right hand from the swell of her hip to let his fingers slowly stroke her between the legs. 

She let out an involuntary gasp and stiffened when the pads of his fingers brushed against her clit, and his eyes flashed up to hers. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he leaned back slightly. His hand still cupped her womanhood as he gave her an inquisitive look. 

"I haven't been with…" Sansa started and trailed off, breaking his gaze as her cheeks grew hot. "No one's touched me there since my… my ex." She finished quietly. 

The concern on Sandor's face melted into understanding. 

"If you're not comfortable…" Sandor began slowly, and Sansa shook her head fiercely. 

"No." She whispered. "I want you to touch me, Sandor." He looked unconvinced. "I'm just nervous. Maybe just… go slow?" 

He studied her for another long moment before he nodded. 

"I want to make you feel good, little bird." He rasped. "Promise you'll tell me if I'm not." 

"I promise." Sansa replied breathlessly. 

He nodded once more, then returned his gaze to the hand he had nestled against her. He seemed to consider for another few moments, then pulled his hand away. 

"Sandor-" 

He cut her off with a kiss. He delicately cupped her face in both his hands, stroking his thumbs along her cheekbones. She kissed him back eagerly, her nerves beginning to retreat. His hands slid down her face to her neck, then even further until his fingers traced her clavicle. She shivered a little, feeling goosebumps rise under his delicate touch. 

His hands cupped her shoulders now, then trailed down her arms. He still kissed her softly as his hands explored her body. She couldn't keep up with his light touches, cupping her breasts, trailing down her waist, ghosting up her back. She gave an involuntary shiver and her hips twitched forward. 

He broke the kiss with a soft chuckle, then pushed one hand up to tangle in her hair, wrapped his other arm securely around her, and tipped her back to expose her throat. The sound she made was practically inhumane when his mouth traced one of her nipples, and she thrust her chest up into his face. She felt him smile against her skin, and a thrill jolted through her when he took her other nipple in his mouth. 

She rolled her hips against him and let out a frustrated groan when she didn't find any friction. His mouth trailed kisses back up to her throat. 

"Do you want me, Alayne?" 

His husky whisper sent another jolt of arousal through her body. 

"Yes." She moaned. "Yes, Sandor, please touch me…" 

She felt him smile against her throat again and leaned back into the couch, pulling her back into a steady position on his lap. She flexed her fingers on his shoulders as he steadied her, and he caught her mouth in another hungry kiss. She moaned into his mouth and slid her fingers back into his hair, holding him against her with all her strength. 

He broke the kiss sooner than she would've liked, and she was the one to chase him with her lips this time. He brought one huge hand up to cup her face, and she leaned into it as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. 

His eyes were desperate, needy, hungry, but most of all, questioning. He was asking her permission one more time. 

"Touch me, Sandor." She whispered, leaning her forehead against his. 

She felt his other hand move from her waist, trailing along her hips and pelvis, before sliding over her mound and letting his fingers slip between her folds. He held her gaze as his fingers found her clit again, and began to rub slow circles.

"Gods, little bird, you're so wet…" he groaned.

She forced herself to keep her eyes open as she melted at the contact, her mouth forming an 'o' shape. She saw a smile dance across his face, then resumed his more serious look as he dived for her breasts, licking and suckling at her as she rolled her body against his with a long moan. 

She lost track of herself as the tips of his fingers played with her between the legs and his mouth devoured her chest. She was all but humping into his hand now, and couldn't have said if it had been a few moments or an hour. 

"I want to give you more." He murmured into her neck, and her fingers clenched in his hair. 

"Yes…" she hissed, hoping that would be enough. 

"Say it." He murmured. 

She let out a frustrated whimper and he chuckled again. 

"I'll give you anything you want, little bird." He murmured into her neck. "All you have to do is ask for it." 

She shivered violently at his words, and some distant part of her brain noted the potential double meaning. But the rest of her brain that was in the here and now, submitting to his sweet torture, let out an impatient keening noise as she tried to find the words to say what she wanted. 

"Well?" He prompted after a few moments. 

"I want you." She ground out between clenched teeth. 

"You have me." He answered easily. "What part of me do you want right now?" 

"Your hands." She gasped as his fingers made some kind of twirling motion on her clit that made her pull herself tight against him in need. "Your fingers." 

He hummed softly in approval against her neck. "And what would you like my fingers to do?" 

Sansa keened again as she ground her hips into his fingers, frustrated and desperate. 

"Say it." He urged her, pulling her head back to meet her eyes again. 

"I want you to fuck me with them!" She finally cried out, and she saw the mischievous glint in his eye at her words; she'd said exactly what he wanted. 

"As you wish." He murmured, holding her gaze as his two fingers traveled lower and pushed inside her. 

She gasped at the intrusion and clenched down on him involuntarily, her fingers tightening in his hair. He brought his thumb up to her clit as his fingers bottomed out in her. 

He remained still, watching her face as her hips twitched, jerked, and rolled to find a comfortable angle in the wake of his invasion. His thumb slowly circled, and she gasped as she ground down against him. 

He swallowed her gasp with a kiss, and she let one hand fall from his hair to anchor herself on his broad shoulder. 

"Are you alright?" He whispered. 

She nodded fervently, meeting his eyes with a smile. 

"I'm not hurting you?" He asked, brushing her hair back with his free hand. 

"You're not hurting me." She assured him, then kissed him again. 

"You're so fucking tight." He breathed against her mouth between kisses, and curled his fingers slightly where they were nestled within her. A low groan sounded from deep in her throat, but she couldn't find it in herself to be embarrassed at the sound. Especially when it made Sandor litter her throat, shoulders, and chest in more kisses. 

She rocked against him as his fingers worked inside her, his thumb rubbing slow circles on her clit. She felt like she could explode into a million stars at that moment, like the peak she was chasing would break the ground around them. She felt no shame or abandon as she rolled and ground herself against his hand. 

"Sandor…" she whined suddenly, her fingers tightening on his hair. 

"Little bird?" He grunted into her throat. 

"I'm gonna come." She managed to whisper. 

His head raised out of her neck and he met her gaze. She saw the wonder behind the need in his eyes, and knew he could see the same in hers as she pounded herself down onto his hand. 

"Look at me while you come." He asked quietly, his free hand cupping her face again. "Come for me, beautiful." 

She looked directly into his eyes as her climax began to wrack her body. She moaned his name and felt her hips jumping wildly against him, her fingers digging into his scalp and neck. He dropped his hand from her face to hold her hip, guiding her motions on him to drag out her orgasm, and she threw her head back with another cry of pleasure. 

Sansa collapsed forward as her peak settled, steadying herself on his shoulders. He withdrew his hand from between her legs, and she watched him, wide eyed, as he sucked his fingers clean. She gasped and gave his chest a light slap, though she found the sight incredibly erotic. 

He chuckled as he gathered her naked form against his chest, holding her tight as both of their breaths returned to normal. 

"Are you okay?" He asked softly after a few minutes. 

She nodded and nuzzled into his neck, not willing to break from this intimate position quite yet. He raised one hand to cup the back of her head and slowly stroke her hair. 

"Thank you." She whispered as she threaded her thin arms around his neck. 

He looked down at her, confused, and she gave him a small smile. 

"For making me feel good." She murmured into his ear, then settled against him again. 

"Any time." He chuckled. "Literally, any time. That was so fucking sexy." 

She blushed and hid her face against his neck. "Was it what you imagined?" She asked shyly. 

"It was better than I imagined." He replied, giving her a gentle squeeze. 

She wouldn't pretend to understand her own feelings, but for as long as this man wanted her wrapped up in the safety of his arms, she would be there. 

He nuzzled his nose into her hair, and just held her, for quite some time. Sansa let herself relax against him, letting herself feel the hard, rippling muscle of his chest and stomach. The long, impenetrable expanse of his arms wrapped around her and held her frame against his. 

She smiled into his neck and pushed herself back into an upright position, pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, and peeked down at the hard bulge of his erection. She blushed a little when he smirked. 

"All for you, little bird." There was an amused lilt in his voice, and he trailed his fingers up and down her arm. 

She trailed a hand down his chest and stomach, but he stopped her before she could touch him. 

"Don't." He murmured, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips. She raised her eyebrows. "You're not a whore, I didn't mean for you to do anything." 

"I know you weren't expecting it." She replied with a smirk. "But you have my attention, Sandor." 

She tried to pull her hand free of his, but his hand tightened. She looked up into his face again. 

"You really just wanted to see me like that?" She asked softly, running her fingers down his cheek. 

He chuckled. "If you could've seen yourself, you'd understand." 

He cupped her face in one of his huge hands again, gazing up at her. Sansa squirmed a little at the intensity of his gaze, and he glanced over her shoulder, then smirked mischievously up at her. 

"Maybe you CAN see yourself…" he murmured. 

She cocked her head in confusion, then squealed when he suddenly stood, squeezing all of her limbs around him instinctively. He held her entire weight with one arm under her rear, and chuckled at her reaction. 

"I won't drop you, little bird, you're light as a feather." He said as he turned. 

She caught sight of their reflection in the huge mirror on the opposite wall and her heart skipped a beat. He surely didn't mean…

He set her gently onto the couch and knelt before her, tugging her legs up onto his shoulders and anchoring his hands on her hips. She gasped at him. 

"Is this alright?" He asked her, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh. 

She instinctively dropped her hands to cover herself, and he pulled back at once, looking at her with concern. She blushed hard and ducked her head down, and he gently removed her legs from his shoulders and rose to sit next to her on the couch. She hunched in on herself and angled her body away from him, trying to control her breathing. 

After a moment, she felt him drape his own jacket around her shoulders, and she clutched at it, breathing deeply as his scent enveloped her. 

"I'm sorry, little bird, I should've asked first." He was murmuring behind her. He hadn't touched her and she was grateful, knowing she'd likely flinch away without meaning to. "I'm not going to hurt you, you don't have to do anything…" 

She tried to focus on his voice as the ghost of Joffrey's screeching threatened to fill her ears. She was gasping for breath now, her fingers going numb with how tightly she clenched Sandor's jacket, and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. 

"That's revolting, Sansa!" She flinched away from Joffrey's voice. 

"It's okay, Alayne, you're safe…" Her hand twitched, wanting to reach out for Sandor. 

"Have you seen yourself down there? It's sick Sansa, there's something seriously wrong with you." 

She choked back a sob as the humiliation spread through her body, making her want to run, to hide, to dig herself into a deep hole and never resurface. 

"Please, Alayne, I'm sorry. Don't cry, I won't do it again." 

"Don't you know how lucky you are, you stupid little bitch? Don't you know I'm the only person that would have you? You're disgusting, used up, worn out…" 

"Stop it, Joffrey, please…" She wasn't aware she'd said the words out loud. 

Sandor was in front of her suddenly, kneeling on the floor in front of her again, but this time he cradled her face in his hands. 

"Look at me, little bird." He was urging. 

She blinked and shook her head violently. All she saw was Joffrey's face, purple with rage and towering over her. But that voice didn't belong to him. 

"He's not here, he's not here. You're with me, Alayne, it's just you and me." 

She blinked furiously, trying to bring Sandor's face into focus. 

"I can't stand the sight of you, I can't even look at you right now, Sansa. Take all that ugliness away from me, go fucking hide somewhere." 

"Look at me, please! Baby girl… beautiful girl, he's not here, it's me. It's just me." 

Her eyes finally focused on him, his face twisted in fear and concern, his hands cradling her face while he called her beautiful. She hiccuped and gasped, then threw herself forward into him. 

"Little bird…" he sounded shocked, and she felt him adjust his jacket around her, holding it in place. 

"Hold me, Sandor." She whispered into his neck. "Please." 

He wrapped her up immediately, pulling her tight against him and tucking her head under his chin so she could bury her face in his neck. 

"You're okay…" he whispered, rubbing her back. "You're okay, you're safe. It's just me." 

"Don't make me tell you again, Sansa!" She flinched and whimpered, remembering the plate he'd thrown at her. 

"What do you need?" It was Sandor. Sandor's voice, Sandor's smell, Sandor's arms and chest holding her securely. "What can I do?" 

"Keep talking to me." She whispered shakily, her hands twisting into the soft fabric of his shirt covering his back. "Please, I need to hear your voice…" she trailed off and pressed herself even tighter against him. 

"I've got you." He murmured to her, stroking her hair as he began to sway her softly from side to side. "He's not here, I won't let him hurt you…" 

She hung on his words like a lifeline as he murmured to her, and slowly, her breathing steadied and her heart began to slow. Just as she was able to take a deep, steadying breath, she realized what she'd done, and mortification hit her hard. 

"Oh Gods, I'm sorry." She said, pulling away from him and wringing her hands. "I can't believe I did that, Sandor, I'm sorry! I'm so embarrassed." 

He seemed surprised at her sudden change and released her, then scooted forward to grasp her hands as she rambled. 

"Stop." His whisper was gentle and forceful at once, and she met his gaze nervously. "Don't apologize, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." 

She grimaced and ducked her head, feeling her cheeks burn. 

"Don't run from me." He whispered her words from earlier, and she met his gaze again. "It's okay, I get it. I understand." 

He raised one hand to cup her cheek and they stared at each other for a long moment, then she nodded once. He gave her a small smile and helped her to her feet, then guided her back onto the couch. She adjusted his jacket around her shoulders and crossed her legs. She fidgeted under his intense gaze, unable to think of anything to say. 

"My brother is in prison for rape and murder." Sandor said, suddenly breaking this silence. 

Sansa was so surprised she whipped her head around to look at him. His face was expressionless and his gaze steady. 

"When he was in college, he almost killed a girl. She reported it, and when the college didn't take it seriously, a dozen other girls went on record saying he raped and hurt them too." 

Sansa gaped at him, flexing her fingers as she considered whether to reach for his hand. She wanted to comfort him, to support him, but she couldn't bring herself to reach for him. 

"I tried to testify against him, to tell about what happened to my face and how he's been cruel since we were kids. But our dad wouldn't corroborate the story, so his defense team got my testimony thrown out." Sandor looked down at his hands. "It's a long fucking story, and one I don't like to remember." He looked back at her. "His name followed me for a long time. At college, applying for jobs, medical school, even finding a permanent job after residency. No one wants to associate with the brother of a convicted murderer rapist." 

His hands balled up into fists on his knees, and Sansa hesitantly reached out. She touched her fingertips to his knuckles, and he looked down at her hand. He stared at her hand for a moment, then looked back into her eyes. 

"That's why I panicked earlier." He said softly. "The only thing I've ever wanted was to be nothing like him. Rumors went around when I was in college, articles resurfaced, and it was easy for people to believe that I might be like him, because I look fucking mean. It didn't matter that I detested him more than they did, that I was as disgusted as they were. I volunteered with the campus police to walk people around campus after dark if they were afraid. I joined Students Against Sexual Assault. I even got in a couple fights at frat parties when I saw drunk jackasses trying to take advantage of drunker girls. 

"No matter what I did, the rumor mill could turn it into something it wasn't. I volunteered with campus police to get girls alone. I joined SASA in case I ever needed a defense. I got in the fights because the drunk girls were easy targets and I wanted them for myself." 

He dropped his gaze from her face again, back to her hand. She still hadn't taken his hand properly, and he made no move to grasp her hand either. He stayed quiet and Sansa took a deep, steadying breath. She sensed that he was done sharing, and was now leaving it up to her what happened next. 

"My ex always told me that I was ugly… down there." She said slowly, lowering her eyes to their hands as well. "He only saw that part of me a few times, but he always reacted with such… disgust. I haven't let anyone else get that close to me. No one else has ever seen." 

"That fucking wanker told you that your cunt was ugly?" Sandor said incredulously, and Sansa blushed at his coarse language, then nodded once, still not meeting his gaze. "What a fucking idiot." Sandor said softly, and Sansa thought he probably didn't intend for her to hear it.

They sat in silence for some time more, and Sansa didn't know what else to say. Her confession seemed positively silly compared to his, and she didn't know what to do from here. 

"I know you won't hurt me." She finally whispered, still not meeting his gaze. "I know you're nothing like him." 

She saw his head turn in her peripheral vision, and felt his hand flex beneath hers. 

"I didn't get a good look," he said slowly, "but you have the prettiest cunt I've ever fucking seen." 

She gasped at his words and met his gaze, finding him giving her an amused smirk. 

"Sandor!" She objected with a giggle. 

He twisted his hand in hers then, taking her hand properly and lifting it to his twisted mouth to brush his lips against her knuckles. He gave her arm a gentle tug and she followed his lead, scooting closer to him on the couch. His free hand came up to her cheek and he brushed his lips against hers. 

"When you're ready, I'd like to take another peek." He murmured. 

She was sure she flushed beet red at that, but he kissed her in earnest without giving her a chance to respond. She brought her free arm up around his neck and clung to him, letting him shower her with gentle kisses. She caught his lips with hers again and twisted her fingers in his hair as she kissed him. He released a soft groan into her mouth, and the lights chose that moment to flash. 

He growled softly and glowered up at the lights, and she couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped her lips. He turned his attention back to her and his expression softened. 

He took her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles. He seemed to be stealing himself to say something, so Sansa remained quiet, waiting for him to take the lead. 

"If it's alright with you…" he began, then cursed softly and averted his gaze. Sansa squeezed his hands in silent encouragement, and he looked at their joined hands, then back at her face. "I'd like to see you outside the club." He said softly. "I understand this is a business, and I'm a customer," he added quickly, "and of course I'll still pay you for your time. But… I'd like to take you out properly." 

Sansa stared at him, open mouthed, for a long moment. 

"I know that's a big ask." He said softly, and raised her hand to kiss her knuckles again, then reached for his messenger bag. "Here's my card." He thrusted it at her awkwardly. "I wrote my cell on the back. Just… um… if there's a night this week that you're free, let me know. And, um… otherwise I'll see you back here next Saturday." 

His cheek was pink and he was avoiding her gaze again. The lights flashed once more, and he jumped to his feet. Sansa rose as well, and caught his face between her palms. She gave him a heated kiss, and his hands hesitantly grasped her elbows. 

"I'll let you know?" She offered softly. 

Relief was clear on his face when he nodded. He kissed her again, then left the room before she could shrug off and return his jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember you love me and please review!! 
> 
> I've officially caught up to where I no longer have a completed chapter to post if I get stuck, so if anyone has ideas for what surgeon Sandor might plan for a date with a stripper, let me know! 
> 
> Xoxo hope everyone is safe and healthy 🥰


	13. Chapter 13

Sansa had managed to slip away from the club and head home before being accosted by Margaery. She wasn't ready yet to share the details of her evening with Sandor; she needed time to make sense of it alone before she indulged her friend. 

She left Lyanna with Gilly and made her way home. After a shower and throwing on her favorite soft pink pajamas, she laid in bed staring at Sandor's card. 

She was touched that he'd thought ahead to scrawl his personal cell phone number on the back, and that he'd come to the club wanting to pleasure her. The emotions twirling in her gut were unfamiliar, but made her feel warm and excited. 

It felt like hours later when she finally nestled Sandor's card into her underwear drawer and fell asleep. 

Sunday passed in its usual blur. She picked up Lyanna, went grocery shopping, visited Arya, then returned home with her squealing toddler. She'd received three calls from blocked numbers as she went about her day, and texted Bronn each time, but his lack of response was actually soothing to her; if something was amiss, he would've told her straight away. 

She didn't think about Sandor's proposition again until Lyanna was tucked in bed, and Sansa was sitting on the couch with a glass of wine. She was intrigued that Sandor seemed interested in a more intimate relationship than what they could have at Lost Ones, but simultaneously terrified of the liberties he might take outside the club. And then there was her identity to consider. Surely the more she interacted with him outside the club, the more likely it would be for him to realize who she was. 

Did she want him to know? She suddenly found herself picturing Sandor sitting on her living room floor, playing with Lyanna while she prepared dinner. She could see his soft smile as he looked at her daughter, and the subtle hunger he'd have in his eyes when he looked at her. 

She shook her head, clearing those possibilities from her mind. He might want to see her in a more neutral setting, but he was still a client. She couldn't let her mind run away from her, couldn't let herself picture some kind of domestic bliss. 

Monday morning came entirely too fast. Sansa had ignored Margaery's texts the day before, but she certainly couldn't avoid her at the hospital. She sent a quick message to her friend that they could talk over lunch, before she showered and dressed for the day. 

She was able to get Lyanna out the door in record time, dropping her at preschool without incident. A black sedan was parked in a far back corner of the preschool lot. Sansa hesitated before getting back in her car, then snapped a picture of the vehicle and sent it to Bronn. 

The car probably belonged to one of the daycare workers, she reasoned with herself as she drove. She hadn't seen a driver, afterall. She checked her phone for a message from Bronn before she left her car. She frowned at her phone when there was no response, and resolved to call him during lunch for an update. 

She came into the records hall and pointedly didn't meet Margaery's or Podrick's gazes as she dropped into her chair. She knew they were both curious, but still felt that she had to be careful how much she revealed about Sandor to them. 

It was midmorning when Ygritte came through the double doors, holding a to-go coffee cup and a brown paper bag. 

"Good morning, Ygritte." Sansa smiled at her. 

Ygritte glowered as she set the coffee and bag on Sansa's desk. 

"These are from Clegane." She said, crossing her arms. "Apparently I'm a fucking errand girl now." 

"From Sandor, you say?" Margaery asked interestedly, gliding towards them. She flashed a dazzling smile at Sansa's warning look. 

"Oh yes." Ygritte nodded with a frown. "He wanted me to tell you- hold on." 

She fumbled in her pocket for a moment, then extracted a paper that she carefully unfolded. 

"It was very important to him that I say your name." Ygritte told Sansa, then turned her attention back to the paper. "'Sansa, thank you for your research efforts. Please know that I appreciate it. Starting over is never a bad thing; at least I know now what I'm getting myself into. Regards, Sandor Clegane.'" 

Sansa stared open mouthed at Ygritte, who dropped the paper onto her desk and folded her arms again. 

"You got through to him." Ygritte said after a moment with a mischievous smile. "What did you do?" 

Sansa stuttered for a moment, feeling her cheeks grow hot. 

"I, um… I just noticed a theme with some of his charts…" Sansa fiddled with the edge of a paper as she spoke, avoiding Ygritte's gaze. "I figured something out, went to tell him… might've yelled at him for not knowing my name…" 

She blushed furiously, feeling Margaery, Ygritte, and Pod all staring at her. Then, Ygritte burst out laughing. 

"Always known that fucker needed a woman with a strong hand." She grinned at Sansa. 

Sansa frowned and opened her mouth to respond, but Ygritte continued. 

"You've caught his attention now, for damn sure. He's never sent me before to retrieve coffee and a muffin for someone he's offended." Ygritte grinned at her devilishly, and Sansa stuttered in response. 

She didn't hear Margaery's comment, but Ygritte laughed again, then allowed Margaery to walk her to the doors. Sansa watched them go, then averted her eyes as Margaery turned around expectantly. She pulled the brown bag towards her and opened it, finding a lemon poppy seed muffin. 

As she pulled off a piece and ate it, she wracked her brain trying to remember if she'd ever told Sandor of her love for all things lemon. She didn't think she had. Margaery badgered her for a few moments before Sansa sternly reminded her that they'd talk over lunch. 

As Margaery drifted back to her own desk, Sansa unlocked her phone, opening a blank message and typing Sandor's name. She'd waffled for hours over whether to save his number, but now she was glad she did. 

She looked down at her screen for a long moment, then typed out a message suggesting they meet Thursday night. She pressed 'send' before she could second guess herself, and quickly shoved her phone back into her bag. 

*** 

Sansa was so desperate for advice by this time that she told Margaery almost everything of her night with Sandor. Margaery was staring at her, open mouthed over her soup, by the time Sansa finished. 

"He's falling for you." Margaery said finally, leaning back slightly in her chair. 

"Stop." Sansa rolled her eyes and stabbed at her salad. 

"I'm serious." Margaery reached out and grasped her wrist. "He opened up to you, told you something difficult. He wants to see you outside the club. Sansa," Margaery squeezed her wrist, "he's falling in love with you." 

Sansa stared at Margaery with her mouth hanging open for what felt like several minutes. Even after Margaery pulled her hand away and focused back on her soup. 

Sansa's mind was racing, combing over every interaction she'd had with Sandor. He was always gentle, he seemed to truly care for her comfort and safety, he confided in her difficult things from his past. Last night, he held her and comforted her through a flashback, told her she was beautiful and called her 'baby girl'...

Sansa's eyes flashed back to Margaery, who looked smug. 

"What do I do?" Sansa whispered. 

"Well that depends on one thing, darling." Margaery said, quirking one perfect eyebrow. "Are you falling for him too?" 

Sansa felt herself turn bright red. She tried to speak, to deny it, but all that came out was an undignified squeak. Margaery smirked and patted the back of Sansa's hand, then signaled the waiter for their check. Sansa slumped down in her chair. She really was, wasn't she? She'd thought about what her dead father would think of him, leaned into him for comfort, pictured him playing with her daughter. 

She trailed behind Margaery back to the car and sank into it, her mind still reeling with this realization. Margaery, to her credit, was keeping her thoughts to her herself, but Sansa knew her friend was itching to tease her and be smug about her predictions coming true. 

"Margaery…" Sansa said slowly. "We need to go shopping." 

Margaery glanced at her with a grin. "What for? New lingerie to wear while you confess your love?" 

Sansa smacked Margaery's arm. 

"I've agreed to see him outside the club, on Thursday. I need something to wear." 

Margaery gawked at her for a moment, then her face split into a huge grin. 

"Call Daenerys and Shae." Margaery instructed, turning her attention back to the road. "This is an all hands on deck situation." 

Sansa blushed again and fished out her phone. She sent a text to Daenerys and Shae, then called Arya, who agreed to look after Lyanna. 

"Do you know what he's taking you to do?" Margaery asked as she parked. 

"He didn't say." Sansa said, looking down at her phone. 

_Sandor 11:47am: Thursday is perfect._

_Sansa 1:32pm: What will we be doing?_

_Sandor 1:35pm: Is it ok if I surprise you?_

"He wants to surprise you?" Margaery squealed, clapping her hands. "That means he's going all out, he's planning something good." 

_Sansa 1:42pm: Can I have a hint?_

_Sandor 1:43: black tie optional_

"What in the seven hells does he mean by that?" Sansa sighed, exasperated. 

"It means you have to look positively stunning!" Margaery flashed another huge grin before climbing out of the car. 

Sansa cursed to herself as she followed, but couldn't maintain a sour outlook as Margaery threaded their arms and practically skipped back to the hospital. Sansa's nerves were drowned out by excitement, feeling a little jolt in her belly every time she wondered what she would do with Sandor on Thursday. 

*** 

The girls had dragged Sansa through several stores. While she had purchased a few dresses, she knew they hadn't found The One yet. She was grateful to have such good friends who were so ready and willing to help, but the four girls did not have similar tastes. 

Shae kept bringing slip dresses that looked more like sexy nightgowns than anything she'd ever wear in public. Margaery's selections all had intricate shapes cut out that would've made staying safely covered quite a challenge. Daenerys kept bringing huge lengths of silky fabric and demonstrating how it could be tied to look like a dress. 

Sansa was getting frustrated and overwhelmed. She accepted a hanger Shae brandished and looked at the garment. 

"Shae, this has a cup size on it!" Sansa objected. "This one is honest-to-Gods underclothes!" 

Shae took the item back and checked the tag, then laughed. Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew they were trying to help, and they were getting frustrated too, but Sansa had to fight the urge to tell them to all go home and she'd figure it out herself. Irritating as this trip had been so far, she knew she'd be lost without them. 

Sansa was grateful when Margaery suggested a break and led them to a bar. They sat on the patio and shared a huge nachos appetizer, sipping on wine and chatting. 

"I think we need to call it for tonight." Sansa said, rubbing her temples as Daenerys settled the bill. 

"But we haven't found a dress yet!" Margaery objected. 

"I know, I know, but I'm just getting so overwhelmed! I don't want to try on more dresses, most of them look terrible on me anyways." 

"Only that God awful puffy sleeved puce number Shae pranked you with looked truly terrible." Margaery assured her with a pat on the hand. 

Daenerys rejoined the group then and quickly deduced that Sansa was ready to head home. 

"One more shop." Daenerys said earnestly. "If we can't find anything there, then we'll let you go home and try again tomorrow." 

Sansa agreed with a sigh and let them drag her into one more store.

"Tell us again what you're looking for." Margaery suggested as they flicked through racks. 

"Her description doesn't help." Shae snorted. 

Sansa shot a dirty look at Shae, then addressed Margaery. "I want something flirty and fun, but not too out there. Modest but sexy. Something simple but still pretty." 

Shae snorted again, but Margaery nodded thoughtfully, tapping her chin as she looked around at the mannequins. 

"I have it!" Daenerys cheered from across the store. "I found the perfect dress! Alayne!" 

Sansa hurried to her side, and Daenerys held out the floor length red dress with a grin. 

"Just try it on?" Daenerys pleaded when she saw Sansa's hesitant face. 

Sansa sighed and nodded, accepting the hanger and letting the saleswoman lead her to a dressing room. She grumbled to herself as she stripped off the clothes she'd worn to the office for the umpteenth time, and yanked the dress over her head. She tugged it into place, then exited the dressing room and let Shae zip the back for her. 

She turned to face the girls with a sour expression, but they looked awestruck. Sansa frowned and turned to the mirror, and her jaw dropped. 

"This is definitely too out there." She said with a nervous chuckle, shaking her head at her reflection. 

The dress was sleeveless with wide fabric covering her shoulders; the plunging neckline was daring, falling below her breasts, but the amount of cleavage was tasteful; the curve of her waist and swell of her hips was highlighted perfectly, and the side was slit almost to her hip. The bottom of the dress pooled on the floor, long enough that she could wear heels without breaking the illusion. 

"It's perfect." Margaery said softly. 

The skirts fluttered around Sansa's ankles as she paced back and forth. 

"He said black tie optional." Sansa said, wringing her hands. She looked at the saleswoman pleadingly. 

"Did he say whether he'd be wearing a tie?" The woman asked with a quirked brow. 

"He didn't." Sansa said. She dug her phone out of her purse. 

_Sansa 7:36pm: Can I ask a followup question?_

_Sandor 7:37pm: Of course._

_Sansa 7:37pm: Will you be wearing an optional tie?_

Sansa placed nervously as she waited, staring at her phone while the girls giggled. 

_Sandor 7:40pm: Wasn't planning to, little bird._

"He said no." Sansa finally said. 

The ensuing bickering over whether that made the red dress too much made Sansa drop her head in her hands. 

_Sandor 7:43pm: Why do you ask?_

Sansa looked again at her bickering friends and sank into a chair, crossing her legs and trying to school her expression to look casual. 

_Sansa 7:45pm: The girls are trying to decide if the dress I'm wearing is too fancy for whatever it is you're planning._

_Sandor 7:46pm: You can wear a potato sack for all I fucking care_

Sansa huffed and frowned at her phone, but wondered if she was making too big a deal of what she wore. She imagined herself trying to relax and have a drink at Iron Price in the dress she wore and scoffed to herself. No, she really did need to choose carefully, but that was hard when she didn't know what kind of activities to expect. 

_Sansa 7:49pm: Potato sack and stilettos, I'll be a sight to behold._

"Just wear the damn dress!" Margaery exclaimed suddenly, then turned to Sansa. "If you're uncomfortable, just tell Sandor and he'll take you somewhere else." 

Sansa stood again and looked in the mirror. She did love the way the dress hugged her curves, and it did hold a delicate balance between sexy and modest. 

"Fine." She agreed with a scowl, but couldn't help smile at how the girls cheered. 

She returned to her dressing room, and was almost done putting her work clothes back on when she phone buzzed again. She smiled to herself as she finished dressing, then checked the message. 

_Sandor 7:55pm: I'll behold you all night long._

Sansa flushed scarlet as she read the words, and quickly shoved her phone back into her purse without responding. 

"Now tomorrow we just need to find shoes, jewelry, pantyhose, a purse, lingerie, and decide how you'll do your hair and makeup." Daenerys said excitedly as they approached Margaery's car. 

Sansa skidded to halt and stared at the blonde in alarm. 

"It's not as bad as all that." Margaery shot a glare at Daenerys, who looked a little sheepish, then threaded her arm through Sansa's. "We can go through the things you already have, I'm sure you have most of what you'll need. And you'll get ready at my flat, with us. We'll help you."

Sansa nodded slowly, though she couldn't form words quite yet, and let Margaery lead her back to the car. She was squirming nervously as the other girls chatted, when her phone buzzed again. She felt a jolt of excitement as she fished it out, which was quickly extinguished when she saw Bronn's name on her screen. 

_Bronn 8:14pm: Nothing to report: no news is good news. Sources say your Bolton wanker is in the Dreadfort. The plates on the sedan you saw this morning are registered locally. Don't fret._

She released a long breath and considered for a moment before typing out her thanks. Even though the Dreadfort was a solid 3 hour drive away, knowing he was that close sent a chill down her spine. She slid her phone back into her bag and gazed out the window for the rest of the ride. 

Margaery accompanied her home, and began picking through Sansa's limited jewelry and purses while Sansa tried to coax Lyanna to sleep. 

When Sansa finally joined Margaery in the master bedroom, Margaery had laid out a black leather clutch, dangling black and gold earrings, and a pair of strappy black heels. Margaery was typing away on her phone with a look of concentration, but looked up and smiled when Sansa entered. 

"Is the little one settled?" She asked, and continued when Sansa nodded. "I don't think you'll wear a bra with this dress, so all we need to buy tomorrow are stockings. I'm thinking thigh-highs with garter clips, but I can't decide whether you should go for a jacket or a shawl." 

Sansa nodded as Margaery chirped away, but her mind was already racing with what Thursday night would bring. Up until tonight she thought she knew Sandor fairly well, but she couldn't conjure up any predictions for what he might plan. 

Margaery left after a while, and Sansa was left to pour a glass of wine and wonder what Sandor had in store for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo the common theme of comments on the last chapter was guessing that Sandor knows, and he's known all along. Spoiler alert, he doesn't. But we'll get to that. In the meantime, -gasp- revelations about feelings! Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, my inspiration for the dress: https://whitefoxboutique.com/collections/dresses/products/time-is-up-maxi-dress-red?variant=31048577089596


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for dirty talking Sandor! Read at your own risk 😉

Sansa was staring in wonder at the shelf in Margaery's shower. Her friend had told her to use whatever products she wanted, but she had so many that Sansa didn't know what to do. She had given each bottle a sniff and read the label, and she still wasn't quite sure. 

She finally settled on a set of white bottles with the labels entirely in Valyrian. She prayed that Margaery had the bottles arranged in the order they would be used, since she hadn't practiced Valyrian since secondary school, and poured a generous amount from the first bottle into her palm. It smelled faintly of rose and lemons, and the scent calmed her as she worked the shampoo through her hair. 

She had been openly avoiding Sandor at the hospital, ducking her head or turning away whenever she saw him. She hadn't thanked him for the coffee, or accepted the implied apology Ygritte had relayed. The line about knowing what he was getting himself into made her pause, as she'd said the same thing to him as Alayne on Saturday. 

She turned off the shower and wrapped herself in one of Margaery's fluffy towels. Sandor had texted this morning asking if she was still free that night, and she'd said yes, but he hadn't given any details about his plan yet. 

_Sandor 6:14pm: Would it be ok if I pick you up? Or would you be more comfortable meeting me somewhere?_

Sansa set her phone down and wrapped her hair in a towel, then left the bathroom. Margaery and Daenerys were waiting for her there, and both leapt to their feet excitedly when she entered. 

"He asked if he can pick me up." Sansa told them as Margaery guided her to the chair in front of the vanity. 

"Ooh yes give him this address!" Margaery clapped her hands. 

Sansa typed out the address and hit send, then set her phone down as Margaery and Daenerys got to work on her hair. They were speculating wildly about what Sandor might be planning, but Sansa's nerves were quickly returning. 

"What if he gets a hotel?" Daenerys suggested with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. 

"Ooh might be!" Margaery agreed. "I'm sure he'd take her somewhere else first. Dinner, maybe? Dancing?" 

"He doesn't dance." Sansa interjected. 

"He danced with you." Margaery pointed out. 

Sansa gave a dismissive mumble and reached for her phone. 

_Sandor 6:37pm: I'll pick you up at 8?_

_Sansa 6:39pm: Perfect! See you soon!_

Sansa tossed her phone on the vanity and let out a groan, dropping her face into her hands. What the hell was she playing at, anyways? This whole situation was ridiculous. 

"What's the matter?" Margaery asked, her brow furrowed. 

"This is going too far." She said, lifting her head enough to peek at Margaery through her fingers. "It's getting too personal. What am I supposed to do here? How long do I let this go on?" 

"Hush, darling!" Daenerys urged her. "Don't overthink it. Just let that huge, sexy man spoil you and treat you, and worry about the rest later." 

"But-" 

"She's right." Margaery cut Sansa off. "Might be tonight is terribly awkward and you never want to see him outside the club again. Or it might be the best night of your life. Best wait and see, and we can dissect it and fret about it tomorrow." 

Sansa was not at all reassured by her friends, but kept her worries to herself as Margaery and Daenerys fussed over her. 

It was just ten minutes til 8 when Margaery pulled her from the chair and brandished her new dress. Sansa was shaking with nerves as she pulled the dress over her head and let Margaery zip it into place. She rolled on her thigh-high stockings and buckled her strappy heels in place with shaking hands. Margaery and Daenerys continued to fuss around her for a few moments, then turned her to face Margaery's full length mirror. 

Sansa's mouth dropped open. They had styled her hair with one side pinned back and the rest falling in loose waves. Her makeup was tasteful, yet perfect, and she wore lipstick that matched the dress perfectly. 

"Ooh I think he's here!" Daenerys squealed from the window. 

Sansa felt her heart lurch and quickly snatched up bag, clutching it against her chest. 

"You look perfect!" Margaery assured her. "Now go on, darling!" 

Sansa flashed a grin at the girls as she left the apartment. She took the elevator down, and smiled to herself when she felt several sets of eyes on her as she walked through the lobby. She inhaled sharply when she saw Sandor, leaning against a limo, holding a bouquet of lilies. 

He smiled shyly as she approached him, but she still noticed his eyes raking over her body. 

"Hi, Sandor." She said softly when she reached him. 

"Alayne." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. "You're gorgeous." He murmured, looking over her again now that she was closer. 

Sansa blushed and ducked her head. "You look very handsome." He truly did, his black-on-black suit with no tie was the perfect combination of dangerous and sexy, and he had his hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. 

He scoffed slightly in response with a roll of his eyes, then awkwardly brandished the flowers. 

"For you." He mumbled. 

Sansa grinned. "Thank you, Sandor. They're beautiful." 

His good cheek turned pink as he ducked his head, then he gave her a shy smile as he opened the door for the limo. She grinned at him as she accepted his offered hand, and slid across the bench to make room for him to follow her. 

He climbed in, shut the door, then tapped twice on the partition with his knuckle. 

"Will you tell me now where we're going?" Sansa asked playfully with a coy smile. 

"Not a chance." He grinned back at her, then leaned forward and plucked two glasses of champagne off the little bar that ran along one side of the limo, and handed a glass to her. "For your nerves?" He gave her a playful smile. 

"Might need something stronger." She joked with a smile, then touched her glass to his. 

He chuckled as he raised the glass to his lips, and produced a hip flask as he drank. 

"Wilding Whiskey?" He offered, and she burst into giggles. 

"Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage?" She winked and gave his arm a playful push, but immediately realized her mistake when he frowned. "I didn't mean it like that." She said quickly, setting her hand over his where it rested on his knee. "I'm sorry." 

He shook his head slightly, then smiled at her. "Nothing to apologize for." He said, raising her hand to kiss her knuckles again. "How has your week been so far?" He quickly changed the subject, and Sansa breathed a small sigh of relief. 

"The girls have been insufferable." She said, setting down her glass and plucking the flask from him. "I think they might've been more excited than I am." 

"So you are looking forward to tonight, then?" He asked, inclining his head slightly as she drank from the flask. 

"Yes." She gave him a puzzled look. "Of course I am. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be." 

He smiled again, clearly relieved, and she took pity on him this time. 

"What about you? How's your week?" She asked, setting the flask on the bar and turning to face him. 

"It's been fine." He said, waving a hand dismissively. "I've had to go back to the drawing board with my research, but it's already making sense." 

She nodded and squeezed his hand, giving what she hoped was an interested smile. She couldn't think of anything to say without giving away how much she already knew. 

"There's a girl down in records," he explained, "she's the one who usually pulls the old charts that I need. I guess she's been reading them, because she made a connection that I'd completely missed." 

She hummed thoughtfully and cocked her head to show her interest, but her heart was pounding out of her chest. 

"I've partnered with a team of psychologists, they're reviewing the charts and looking for more connections." He frowned down at their interlocked fingers. "I'd spoken to the head of the department about bringing her on as a research assistant, since she's helped so much already. She was the one who made the connection about kids having better outcomes, too. But I offended her, I guess when I said I'd have to start over, she thought I was upset." He let out a mirthless chuckle and met her gaze. "Another downside of having a fucked up face." 

She tutted and scooted forward, placing her hand against his burnt cheek. 

"There is nothing wrong with your face." She told him sternly. 

There was silence between them for a moment, then he laughed. 

"You're the only one who thinks so." He chuckled, kissing her knuckles again. "How has the most beautiful woman in Westeros not realized I'm an ugly old dog?" 

He was giving her an easy smile, one that touched his eyes for once, but she frowned at him. 

"I don't like it when you talk about yourself like that." She said softly, squeezing his hand. "I know it's hard to see past your own flaws, or what you perceive to be flaws… you're not ugly, Sandor. Not because of your scars, or anything else." 

He scoffed and looked away, but she turned his head back towards her and he didn't resist. 

"Just think about the other night." She offered. "I froze up because you looked at my…" she trailed off, struggling for words. "Anyways, like you said, there's nothing wrong with… that. And now I'm saying, there's nothing wrong with you, either." 

He stared at her for a long moment, then leaned forward and brushed his lips to hers. 

"You're blind or mad, little bird, but I'm not going to waste precious time trying to argue with you." He smirked at her. 

She opened her mouth to object again, but the limo came to a stop and the driver tapped once on the partition. 

"We're at the first stop." Sandor smiled and kissed her again, then opened the door of the limo and stepped out. 

She stared at his offered hand for several seconds before she scooted forward and accepted it, letting him help her from the limo. 

"'The first stop'?" She repeated, looking up at him. 

"Aye." He gave her a mischievous grin as he pushed the door shut and offered his arm. She smiled hesitantly as she threaded her arm through his, letting her hand rest against his bicep, and he led her forward into what appeared to be a bar. 

She looked around interestedly when they got inside. It wasn't like any bar she'd seen before; the room was dimly lit, with candles on each table. Only a few tables were occupied, by couples with their heads close together. A band played live music, slow and sultry, and there was an empty dance floor in the middle of the room. 

She barely registered Sandor speaking to the host, but before she knew it, he was giving her a gentle tug and leading her further into the room. The host took them to a booth that was set into the wall at the back of the room, giving them some privacy. 

"What is this place?" Sansa asked as she slid into the booth. 

"Wine and fondue." He said with a smile, sliding in behind her. 

A waitress came and introduced herself, offering samples of wine. Sansa tried hard to pay attention to what Sandor ordered, but her heart was pounding again. 

The waitress nodded and walked away, and Sansa shimmied into Sandor's side, threading her hands through his arm and linking her fingers on the inside of his elbow. 

"Little bird?" He questioned, looking down at her. 

"I'm really nervous." She admitted quietly. 

He turned toward her in the booth and raised his free hand to cup her cheek. He gazed at her for a long moment, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. 

"Relax, Alayne." He murmured against her lips. "You can call it anytime, whenever you're ready. If you aren't enjoying yourself, I can take you home. No questions asked, no hard feelings." 

She relaxed a little and nodded, smiling at him before kissing him again. "I know it's silly," she said, "I've just never been taken out like this before. Limo, flowers, a place this nice…" 

"You deserve it, and more." Sandor brushed a stray hair back from her face, and she blushed. 

The waitress returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses, and Sandor poured them each a generous serving of the honey colored liquid. 

"Not a red?" She asked with a raised eyebrow as she accepted her glass. 

"Wouldn't go with the food." He said with a smirk as he touched his glass to hers. 

The waitress brought a tray of vegetables and seafood, with a bowl of skewers and a small pot of molten cheese. They chatted easily as they ate, Sansa giggling as Sandor asked about her favorite colors and favorite animals. 

She was starting to feel the effects of the wine when Sandor paid the bill, and she grinned at him as he rose from the bench and offered his hand to her. She threaded their fingers together and let him lead her across the dance floor back to the door. In the middle of the floor she paused and tugged his hand. 

He stopped and turned, and she bit her lip, extending her other hand out to him. He smiled softly and accepted it, letting her pull him back close to her. She put one hand on his shoulder, and he put one on her waist, and she gasped as he began to lead her in the steps of a simple foxtrot. 

"I thought you didn't know how to dance?" She raised an accusing eyebrow as he twirled her around and dipped her low. 

"I said I don't dance." He corrected with a smirk, pulling her upright and resuming the steps. "Not that I don't know how." 

She grinned at him as he pulled her up again. 

"But are you a one trick pony?" She smiled shyly as he continued to foxtrot. 

"Hmm…" he raised his good eyebrow, regarding her with mock suspicion. "What about a waltz?" 

She giggled as he lifted her off her feet to spin her around, and immediately began to lead her in a waltz when her feet touched the ground again. 

There was a smattering of applause as he twirled her away from him and then back, then lifted her and spun once, before setting her back on her feet and resuming the steps without hesitation. 

"You're full of surprises, Dr. Clegane." Sansa said with a playful smirk. 

He mumbled incoherently, his good cheek reddening slightly, and he spun her around once again. 

Two other couples had joined them on the dance floor, and Sandor took that opportunity to pull her away. She giggled as she hurried behind him, and he led her quickly to the limo. He opened the door for her and she ducked inside. Again he rapped twice on the partition, and the limo began to move. 

"Where did you learn to dance?" She asked with a grin. 

"Never you mind." He said evasively, though he smiled as he offered another glass of champagne. 

He took her next to a fancy restaurant for dinner. He seemed perfectly at ease there, even as she'd realized with a jolt of panic that the menu did not include prices. She remembered her friend Mya from college, who had once said "if you're at a restaurant without prices and you want to ask, it means you can't afford it." 

"What else do you have planned?" Sansa asked as they climbed into the limo once again. 

"You'll see soon enough." Sandor grinned at her. 

When the limo stopped again and Sansa climbed out, she gasped softly. 

"I got the feeling you didn't quite remember our last visit." Sandor said quietly, setting his hands on her shoulders. 

Sandor had brought her back to the new fountain in the Winter Town square. He trailed behind her as she walked closer, gazing in awe at the statues in the middle that represented each of the Seven New Gods. 

"It's beautiful." She whispered after a few moments. 

"Aye." 

She turned to look at him and blushed when she saw his eyes once again exploring her body. She extended her hand to him and he accepted at once, twining his fingers with her as she pulled herself into his side. They walked slowly around the fountain before settling on a bench, watching the water pulse rhythmically from each of the fountains spouts. 

"I've had such a wonderful time tonight, Sandor." She said finally to break the silence. 

"Aye, me too, little bird." He replied, smiling down at her. 

She leaned up to kiss him again, and he raised his free hand at once to cup her cheek. He kissed her, gently and deeply at once, and Sansa leaned into him, letting his huge frame support her weight. 

"I have one more stop on the list, if you're up for it." He whispered against her lips after a few moments. She hummed softly to show her interest, then pressed her lips into his once more. 

"I got a hotel room." He murmured as he disentangled from her. "Not for what you're thinking," he said quickly. "Just somewhere for us to be alone. I don't have any… expectations. I'd just like you to come see it." 

She pulled away just enough to look at him as she considered. 

"Okay." She said after a few moments. "Take me there." 

He huffed out a relieved noise that might've been a chuckle, and pulled her to her feet. He kissed her hard again, then led her back to the limo. Her heart was pounding, but with excitement now rather than nerves. The drive to the hotel was a blur of hesitant touches and kisses, and Sansa let out a frustrated whimper when Sandor pulled away, even as she realized they'd reached the hotel. 

Sandor led her through the lobby to an elevator. He pushed her back into a corner and lavished her with kisses again as the lift ascended to their floor. She trotted along behind him with a giggle as he led her to the room he'd reserved. 

When they reached the door, he swiped a key card and opened it, then motioned her to go in ahead of him. She gasped as she took in the room, and went first to the wall of windows opposite the door. 

"Sandor…" She breathed as she took in the view. "This is amazing." 

She looked over her shoulder at him and saw his good cheek tinged pink. She extended her hand and he crossed the room quickly to accept it. He pulled her into his chest and brushed her hair back from her face. 

"You haven't even seen the best part." He murmured against her lips, then broke their embrace to lead her further into the suite. 

She gasped and clapped her free hand to her mouth when she saw the jacuzzi, right there in the room, with the biggest bed she'd ever seen. 

"Sandor!" She said again, this time giving his chest a light slap as she took in her surroundings. 

He chuckled into her neck as she looked around the room. 

"Only the best for my beautiful bird." He whispered to her, before his lips closed on the shell of her ear and grazed down. 

A low moan emanated from her throat and she tilted her head to give him better access. He trailed his lips down to the hollow behind her ear, then down her neck. He raised one hand to curl around her throat, holding her firmly but not squeezing down at all. She leaned her weight back into him as her legs began to tremble, and felt him smile against her skin. 

She spun around in his arms and kissed him, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. He responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. The slit in her dress allowed her to hook one leg around his waist, and she pulled herself tight against him with a moan, tangling her fingers in his hair. He held her weight with one arm wrapped under her bottom, and his other hand explored her body, cupping her face, trailing down her waist, squeezing her arse. 

She giggled into his mouth and pulled him tighter against her by her hands in his hair, and he suddenly set her down. His hands were on her waist, almost spanning her entire body, and he was breathing hard. He stared down at her in wonder as he caught his breath, then brushed a soft kiss against her lips. 

"I meant what I said," his gravelly voice broke the silence after a few moments. "I didn't bring you here with any expectations. But Gods, little bird, I want you. I want you so much." He raised one hand to cup her face, dragging his thumb along her cheekbone. "Take the lead." He murmured after another moment. "It's up to you, whatever we do… it's up to you." 

Sansa hesitated for a moment and then kissed him again, slowly. She pushed her fingers under the collar of his blazer, and he followed her movements, shrugging off the garment and tossing it away. She kissed him for another few moments, slowly, languidly, marveling to herself how he followed her pace. 

She broke the kiss finally and met his gaze. She searched his eyes for any hint that she should stop this, any trace of rage or hate, but all she saw was desire. Longing. Hunger. And hesitation. She pressed her lips to his once more, then turned away from him. She brushed her hair over one shoulder and turned to give him a meaningful look. He just stared back at her for a moment before realization dawned, and he raised his hands to her zipper. He glanced at her for permission, and when she nodded, slowly dragged the zipper down. 

She shivered slightly at the gentle feeling of his fingers trailing down her back, and bit her lip. She raised her hands to hold the dress against her, and shivered again when he pressed his lips to her spine, just between her shoulder blades. She took a step away from him and his hands dropped from her hips immediately. She turned to face him, and watched his face as she moved her arms and let the dress fall down her body. When it had pooled at her ankles, she stepped forward and placed her hands on his arms. 

His eyes darkened with lust as they scanned over her body. She'd taken Margaery's advice and not worn a bra, and now stood before him in nothing but her lacy black underpants, thigh high stockings, and strappy black heels. 

"You're so gorgeous…" he whispered, raising his hands back to her waist. His fingers barely touched her as he ran them from her ribs to her hips and back again. "Alayne…" 

She pressed her body into his and kissed him again. He responded at once, raising both hands to cradle her face as he returned her kiss. She moved her hands from his elbows up to his chest, and slowly began to unbutton his black shirt. He whined softly into her mouth and she giggled again. 

She had opened the top four buttons, then dropped her hands to tug at the fabric, pulling it free from where it was tucked into his slacks. Again he followed her lead, breaking their kiss long enough to pull the shirt over his head and toss it away, before he pulled her body back against his and continued to kiss her. 

He pulled his mouth from hers and began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down her throat and clavicle. She moaned softly and tipped her head back to grant him better access. She let him continue until he would've had to drop to his knees to kiss any lower, and she stepped out of his grasp. Again, his hands released her at once, and he watched with dark, hungry eyes as she walked to the bed. 

She trailed her fingers along the duvet, then smiled at him over her shoulder. Every line of his amazing, sculpted body was taught as he watched her, but he made no move to approach her or reach for her. Still watching over her shoulder, she tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear and pushed them down her hips. She saw his eyes follow the motion, and then snap back to her face as she kicked them away. 

She just stood there for a few moments, watching him; considering. The thought of exposing her most private area to him still made her heart flutter with panic, but she knew that he'd never react to her like Joffrey. He'd wanted to look last time, after all, and had pulled away and stopped as soon as he sensed her discomfort. She made her decision and set her resolve, smiling at him again as she slowly sat on the edge of the bed. She crawled backwards to the middle and slowly laid down, holding his gaze the whole time. She could see his pulse jumping in his jaw, his fists clenched with the effort to stay where he was at the foot of the bed, and a hot burst of arousal coursed through her body at how determined he was to let her take the lead, to make sure she was comfortable with whatever they did. 

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then met his gaze again as she dragged her knees upward, planting her feet against the duvet with her legs spread wide. She knew he couldn't see anything from where he stood, his hungry eyes taking her in from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She took another deep breath, then extended one hand toward him. "Come and see." She invited softly. 

She saw the way his breath caught, and he crossed the room in two long strides, taking her extended hand in both of his as he knelt beside her on the bed. He kissed her knuckles, then dropped down to kiss her lips again. 

"You don't have to." His strained whisper made her smile. "It's okay-" 

She cut him off with another kiss, throwing her arm around his neck to anchor him against her. 

"I know I don't have to." She murmured against his mouth. "I know… that's why I want to." 

His lusty eyes examined her face for a long moment before he nodded. He kissed her lips again, then her hand, then slowly moved until he knelt between her legs. He kept his eyes on her face, and only when she smiled and nodded did he finally drop his gaze to her core. 

He let out a needy moan and brought his hands to her knees, squeezing softly. "Fuck, little bird…" he whispered, his hands trailing softly down the tops of her thighs. His eyes flashed to her face for a moment, then back to her womanhood. "You're so fucking perfect." 

She blushed deeply and resisted the temptation to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze. She focused on his face, his wide eyed wonder, to keep her calm. 

"May I touch you?" He asked softly after a moment, looking back at her face. 

She bit her lip and nodded, incredibly aroused at how she bared to him, but still worried that he'd shrink away in disgust at any moment. 

He leaned forward and kissed her again, as though he'd sensed her fear. "You're beautiful." He murmured against her lips. "So fucking gorgeous." 

She blushed again but felt reassured when he broke the kiss and turned his attention back to her exposed cunt. His fingers immediately found her clit, and pressed against her with soft circles. She released a low, throaty moan, and heard Sandor chuckle. 

He tested different pressures, different movements on her clit, watching her closely with a smirk on his lips, to see how she reacted to his touches. She was writhing under his touch, fingers twisting into the duvet and jerking her hips when he hit a particularly sweet spot. 

He moved his hand, sinking one finger deep into her core and pressing his thumb into her clit, his other hand still holding her knee. She released another long moan and her back arched off the bed, pushing his finger deeper. 

"Sandor…" she whimpered, her face screwed up in pleasure.

She forced her eyes open to look at him, and saw the primal desire in his eyes, and knew she had the same look. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted to ask for it, but the words caught in her throat. She knew he was willing, as he'd wanted to do it before, but she couldn't find the will to say the crude words herself. 

"Tell me what you need, little bird." His gravely whisper made her shudder with pleasure. 

"I want… I need… Sandor, please…" she trailed off with a frustrated noise as he pushed a second finger into her. 

"Is that what you need?" His voice was so much deeper like this, so much huskier, and every word made her arousal grow. 

She shimmied her hips against him, pushing his fingers deeper, desperately chasing her peak now, but she couldn't find an answer. 

"You're not going to tell me?" He leaned his body over hers, holding his weight on one hand next to her head. 

She bit her lip and met his gaze, hoping he'd see the plea in her eyes and act, without her needing to voice her specific desire. 

"I want to put my mouth on your cunt." He whispered, holding her gaze. "I want to taste your honey sweet juices. I want to lap them up from you like the old dog I am, and feel your thighs wrap around my head, pulling me in close…" 

She moaned and bucked her hips at his words, grinding herself desperately into his hand. 

"Mmm, I can feel how much wetter you just got for me." He kissed her throat. "Is that what you want? You want my face between your legs?" 

She nodded frantically, twisting her hands deeper in the duvet, and she felt a breathy moan against her clavicle. 

"Gods, Alayne…" he groaned into her chest as she clenched on him. "Say it, beautiful girl. Tell me you want it. Please, I want to hear you beg for me." 

"Please, Sandor…" she managed to whimper. "Please… put your mouth on me…" 

He kissed her hard, still working his fingers relentlessly on her sex, and she managed to release the covers long enough to tangle her fingers in his hair. She moaned into his mouth and hooked her legs up to wrap around his hips. He began to kiss his way down her body, and didn't remove his hand until it could be replaced immediately with his mouth. 

She cried out at the feeling and lifted her hips off the bed. He wrapped his arms under her legs and pulled her tight against him as he licked and sucked at her womanhood. She kept one hand in his hair, the other moved restlessly from his hair, to her breasts, to the duvet, and back again and she writhed beneath him. He was flicking his tongue expertly across her clit, fast and relentless, and she felt her climax building deep in her belly. 

Her second hand joined the first in his hair, holding him tight against her, and her thighs squeezed around his ears as she came, bucking her hips up into him and crying his name. 

He continued to lick her through her climax and as she collapsed back into the bed. Her fingers were slowly releasing his hair as she panted, but he stayed right there between her thighs. 

"Sandor?" She gasped softly, lifting her head to look down at him. 

He closed his lips around her clit and sucked firmly; at the same time pushed two fingers onto her cunt and curled them forward, pressing on the rough skin deep inside her. 

She climaxed again at once with a shriek of pleasure, her hands flying back to his hair to anchor herself against him as she again lifted her hips closer to his mouth. She didn't comprehend her own wordless cries as waves of pleasure, more intense than before, crashed relentlessly onto her. 

He pushed himself up as she came down again, casually wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he moved up the bed to lay beside her. He gathered her into his arms, and she moved willingly into his touch, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face in his chest.

"Mmm… little bird…" the contented sound he released made her shiver, and she threw her leg over his to pull herself closer to his rock hard body, shivering with renewed arousal when she felt his erection through his trousers.

"Sandor… that was so good." She whispered into his chest, glad that her blush was hidden since he couldn't see her face. 

"Fuck, little bird…" he moaned in response, pressing a kiss to the top if her head. "You're so fucking sexy…" his hand trailed down her ribs to her hip, then around to her arse, giving a gentle squeeze as he tugged her closer. 

They laid like that for a while, catching their breath and letting their hands slowly explore each other. Sandor finally pulled slightly away from her and crooked his finger under her chin so she'd meet his gaze. 

"Are you alright?" He asked gently, his eyes displaying clear concern. 

She grinned before she pulled herself up the bed enough to give him a fierce kiss. 

"More than alright." She murmured after she broke the kiss, then pressed her lips to the tip of his nose. 

She grinned when she saw the unmarked half of his face turn pink, and he ducked his head down to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat. 

She wrapped her arms around his head and held him against her breast, laying her cheek against the top of his head. He went rigid for a moment, then relaxed into her embrace and tightened his arms around her. She pulled the fingers of one hand slowly through his hair, and the other arm wrapped securely around his shoulders, holding his huge, muscled, warrior's body against her. 

She felt him release a shaky breath against the skin between her breasts, and she tightened her arms around him. She began to hum softly and rock him gently. She had bared herself to him this night, but she realized that this was him baring himself to her; he nuzzled his scarred cheek against the soft skin of her breast and let her hold him, his fingers trailing softly up and down her spine. 

She held him and hummed until his shaky breath began to steady, and only ceased her humming when he raised his face to meet her gaze. His eyes were full of tears as she looked down at him. She pushed his hair away from his face and held it there as she leaned closer. His eyes slipped shut, and she pressed a soft kiss to each of his closed eyelids, then pulled his head back into her chest and continued her humming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been such a pain in my ass. I struggled and flip flopped every step of the way, but here it is in all its uncut glory. Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Ps, the jacuzzi has not been forgotten and will certainly come into play in the next chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, fluff, and smut. Buckle up.

"What's that you're humming?" 

Sansa barely heard the whisper against her chest. 

"Mother's Mercy." She replied softly. 

"A hymn?" Sandor moved to look at her, raising his good eyebrow. 

"It's what came to mind." She smiled softly at him and smoothed his hair back again. 

He pushed himself up onto his elbow and brought his other hand up to cup her cheek. He met her gaze steadily for a few moments, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. 

"You're bloody perfect, you know that?" He murmured. 

Sansa blushed and ducked her head. Her hair fell into her face, but Sandor caught it and tucked it back behind her ear. 

"Laying in bed naked and humming a fucking hymn." He chuckled, letting his hand graze down her arm and side. 

She shivered. "I'm not naked." She objected, lifting one leg and indicating her stockings. 

"Aye, suppose you're not." He smirked, then slid down the bed and stood. 

She watched interestedly as he rose to his full impressive height, then he bent down and seized her legs under the knees. She let out a squeal of shock as he pulled her to the edge, then he took her hands and guided her to sit up. She had one hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her giggles, and he smirked as he dropped to one knee next to the bed. He lifted her ankle and settled her foot against his thigh. He broke her gaze to look down at the buckles on her strappy heels, unhooking each with surprising delicacy. He loosened the straps and eased the shoe off her foot with so much care that Sansa couldn't help smile. He flashed his eyes up to hers with a wicked grin, then unceremoniously tossed the shoe over his shoulder. 

Sansa tilted her head back and laughed. The two sides of him contrasted so harshly, but it was all so perfectly him.

He raised his hands to the top of her stocking, just above mid-thigh, and he began to slowly roll it down. He pressed soft kisses to her creamy skin as he revealed it, raising her foot to rest against his chest as he tugged the stocking over her knee. He pressed kisses all the way down the top of her foot, then tossed the stocking away as well, before cradling her foot in his hands. 

"Even your toes are as perfect as the rest of you." He shook his head in mock annoyance, but the grin he flashed to her let her know he was teasing.

He lifted her foot slowly, one hand supporting her ankle and the other under her arch, and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of each of her toes. Sansa shivered again, surprised at the surge of arousal she felt over his soft attention to her feet. 

He lowered her foot back to the ground as though it was made of glass, then repeated his attentions on her other leg. When he set her other foot back on the ground with the same tenderness, she leaned forward and cupped his face, pressing a soft kiss to his twisted lips. His fingers trailed light designs up and down the outside of her thighs as he returned the kiss, probing her mouth with his tongue. She opened for him and moaned softly at the intrusion. 

She broke the kiss after a few moments, panting slightly as she looked deep into his silvery grey eyes. He looked back at her with the same intensity, raising one hand to her face and swiping his thumb slowly across her bottom lip. 

Another long moment went by in silence, except their breathing, then a grin split across his face. "You're thinking about the jacuzzi, aren't you?" 

"Maybe a little." Sansa replied with a giggle. She kissed him again, then let him guide her to stand as he rose to his feet. 

He crooked his finger beneath her chin and nudged her to look up at him, and just smiled softly before walking over to the huge tub. She reached a shaky hand out to steady herself on one of the beds posts, taking a deep breath as she watched Sandor stride across the room. 

He reached into the bottom of the tub, then flicked a couple taps, and the tub began to fill. 

"They left some oils and powders and these… balls…? Come here, little bird, I know fuck all about this shit." He glanced over his shoulder at her as he gestured helplessly to the basket in question. 

She grinned at him and practically skipped across the room. Her grin widened when she saw his eyes drop to her bouncing tits, and smiled sweetly when she reached his side. 

"You did that on purpose." He accused softly, his silvery eyes had turned charcoal with his lust. 

"If you got it, flaunt it?" She suggested with a wink and playful shrug. 

He growled and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her flush into him and crashing their mouths together. Sansa let out a shocked squeak, then slung one arm around his shoulders, the other hand coming up to rest on his forearm. 

He broke the kiss sooner than she would've liked, but kept his grip on her. She was thankful for his strong arm securing her against his body, as her knees had gone weak again. Some distant part of her brain chided her for being a walking cliche; had she learned nothing from Joff and Ramsay? But that part was quickly stifled when Sandor brushed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, making her blush even though she'd done the same to him just a few minutes ago. 

"So what was it they left us?" She asked, blushing furiously. 

He smirked. "Look here, little bird." 

He tugged her around so she stood in front of him and could look through the contents of the basket. Her skin tingled when he set his huge hands on her hips, guiding her back until her bottom was pressed against his arousal. She shivered, then tried to resume her perusal. 

"Ooh, bath bombs!" She exclaimed excitedly after a few moments, holding up a chalky pink sphere. 

"Aye, those are the balls." Sandor offered, and Sansa burst into giggles. "What do they do?" He asked, cautiously poking a pale blue replica of the pink sphere in Sansa's hand. 

"They bubble up and make the water smell nice." Sansa explained. "And the ingredients are good for your skin, to make it soft and healthy." 

Sandor looked unconvinced and poked the blue sphere again. 

"It's quite satisfying." Sansa said, letting herself settle into his chest now that his attention was on the bath bomb, rather than grinding into her. 

"Satisfying?" He repeated, shooting an incredulous look down at her. 

"Yes! Here, I'll show you. Which one do you like?" She held out the pink bomb and a green one. 

He regarded them each intently, touching each one gently, then dropped his hand. 

"S'pose I prefer green." He said hesitantly after a moment. 

Sansa bit down on the inside of her cheek to stifle her laughter; his ignorance in the way of luxury bathing supplies was adorable, but she didn't think he'd appreciate being laughed at. 

"Smell them, silly moose." She said with a grin, raising her hands slightly higher. 

"Silly moose?" He repeated with a hesitant smile. 

"Well you're clearly too large to be a silly goose." Sansa said, like it was obvious, though secretly relieved that he didn't seem to mind the nickname.

His eyes softened, and he raised his right hand to cup the hand that was holding the pink bomb, bringing it close to his nose and giving it a hesitant sniff. He nodded slightly, then moved his attention to the green bomb. He sniffed again and made a face, scrunching up his nose. Sansa laughed softly, then set the green bomb back on the shelf behind them. 

"I like this one." She said, picking up the yellow lemon and vanilla bomb she'd looked at earlier. "The pink one is rose, they'll go well together." 

She handed him the pink bomb, then took his free hand and pulled him closer to the tub, which was nearly full now. 

"Follow my lead." She instructed gravely with a serious face, and bit the inside of her cheek again when Sandor gave a solemn nod. 

She extended her hand over the tub, waited for him to follow, then lowered her hand so the bath bomb was just barely submerged in the water. Sandor followed and watched intently as the water began to bubble and froth in pink and yellow as the bombs dissolved. 

"Now what?" He asked after a moment. 

"That's it." She giggled. 

"That's it?" He repeated, glancing at her. "They just… bubble?" 

Sansa giggled. "They don't 'just' bubble." She repeated. "Look again! It's so satisfying. 

He gave her another disbelieving glance, then turned his attention back to the water as the last of the bombs fizzled from their hands. Sansa withdrew her hand from the water, and he followed suit, still staring at the water. He turned to her with a piercing stare and she had to fight the urge to flinch. 

"You liked that?" He asked with the same intent stare.

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Yes." She answered hesitantly. 

"It makes you happy?" The intensity of his gaze had not abated. 

"Yes." She repeated after a glance at the tub. 

She braced herself for him to mock her, to chide her for finding joy or entertainment in something so frivolous, and her breath caught when he smiled. 

"Then balls are great." He said earnestly, ducking forward to kiss her cheek. 

She stared at him open mouthed for a few moments, and he began to look uncomfortable. 

"Alayne?" He murmured after a moment, his one brow furrowed in confusion as he gently touched her cheek. 

"That's it?" She asked softly. "It made me happy, so you like it?" 

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well… I won't lie, little bird, I don't totally understand the appeal, but yes-" 

She cut him off with a kiss, throwing her arms around his neck. His hands caught her waist and he returned the kiss enthusiastically for a few moments, before he broke it and leaned back, giving her an inquisitive look. 

She shook her head and waved a hand dismissively between them. "It's nothing." She smiled up at him. 

His brow furrowed deeper and Sansa internally cursed herself for thinking of them while she was here with Sandor. 

She tried for a reassuring smile and lifted up on her toes to kiss him again. 

"Get in, and then I'll tell you." She said softly. 

He gave a hesitant nod. She found a couple hair ties in what seemed to be a care package from the hotel that contained a toothbrush, deodorant, and a few sanitary pads. She pulled out the pins in her hair, then swept it up into a high ponytail. She then braided the pony, twisting it around itself to form a bun. She pinned it in place, then pulled a few pieces of hair down to frame her face. 

She emerged from the en suite when she was satisfied with her appearance, and found Sandor sitting at the foot of the bed, still wearing his shoes and trousers. She gave him a curious look, but he rose to his feet immediately when she emerged, offering his hand to help her up the steps into the tub. She accepted his hand and only released it when she sank into the water with a soft moan. Her eyes slipped closed as she basked for a moment in the warmth, then looked back at Sandor. 

"Will you be joining me?" She asked with a suggestive glance down his body. 

She saw his cheek turn slightly pink, and he toed off his shoes. Sansa bit her lip and looked away as he peeled off his clothes, again finding him adorable but assuming he wouldn't find any humor in her laughter. She looked back at him when she heard the telltale sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and stifled a gasp when she saw him naked for the first time. 

Her eyes raked over him, taking in the sheer broadness of his shoulders, that flowed into impossibly strong arms. His chest and stomach were equally impressive, and Sansa felt the strange desire to run her fingers over the defined shape of his abs. She followed the trail of dark hair down his abdomen, and bit her lip again when she saw the size of his manhood, bobbing shamelessly before him. She swallowed heavily and forced her eyes to continue their journey; the sharp V shape of his narrow waist sent another jolt of arousal through her body, as she felt the inexplicable urge to nibble on his jutted hip bones. Her eyes wandered down to his thighs, each of which had almost as much girth as her waist and looked as strong as tree trunks. 

She heard a breathy chuckle and her eyes snapped back to his. He was tugging his hair out of the tie it had been in before, and began to sweep it back into a bun at the nape of his neck. 

"D'you like what you see?" He asked jokingly, and Sansa's eyes flashed back down his body, noticing the way his arms and abs flexed as he tied his hair. 

"Yes." She replied softly, forcing herself to meet his gaze again. 

She saw the mirth slowly drain from his eyes as he dropped his hands to his side and met her gaze, realizing that she was, in fact, checking him out. 

She wordlessly extended her hand towards him, and he approached at once, climbing the few steps to get in the tub, then sinking down beside her. Sansa shifted closer and set one hand on his shoulder, the other drifting below the water to skim over his abdominal muscles as she'd imagined just before. 

He let out an uncomfortable noise and her eyes snapped back up to his face. His brow was furrowed and his eyes full of confusion as he regarded her. 

"What are you doing, little bird?" He asked softly, with a vulnerability in his voice she'd never heard. 

"Sandor." She said incredulously, frowning at him. "Surely you own a mirror?" His eyebrow raised in surprise, but he nodded. "You're glorious. Sandor…" she swung her leg over to straddle his lap, letting both hands explore the map of his pecs and abs. "Gods, do you know what you look like? You're gorgeous." 

There was silence for a moment, then Sandor barked out a harsh laugh. Sansa flinched. 

"You need your eyes checked, pretty bird." He said, cupping her cheek gently, then dropping his hand almost at once. "Nothing about me is gorgeous." He pulled a scrunched up face as he said 'gorgeous' like the word was offensive. 

"Yes." Sansa insisted, cupping his cheeks in her hands. "You are. Sandor…" she trailed off in wonder again as her fingers traced the lines of his shoulders, then swept down his strong arms. 

He smirked and shook his head, chuckling softly without humor. Sansa frowned at him. 

"What?" She asked incredulously. "Look at you, Sandor. You're magnificent. Your body-" 

He barked another laugh at that and Sansa fell silent. 

"Yes, my body." He grimaced slightly. "Cover up my face and you have a halfway attractive specimen, is that right?" 

Sansa flinched slightly at his words, feeling hurt. 

"That's it, isn't it? A body just slightly good enough to make the occasional glance at my fucked up face worth it." 

Sansa was about to get angry, but she noticed his pained grimace as he stared off into the distance. 

"Well go on, then, girl. Enjoy the body, take it all in, and I'll stay nice and quiet for you." He gave her a venomous look that made her shrink back slightly, but also ignited her fury. 

"How dare you, Sandor Clegane." Her dangerous whisper made him look around in surprise. "Do you think so little of me?" She demanded. "All that we've shared together, all that we've experienced, and you think I hold some superficial abhorrence to your scars?" 

She slapped him, not as hard as she could've, but hard enough to make his eyes go wide in surprise. 

"I've bared myself to you." She said accusingly, poking her finger into his chest. "I've opened myself to you. You've seen my scars, the physical and emotional, and I let you see them! I showed them to you! I trusted you to be kind, to understand, and yet you think so little of me?" 

He looked thoroughly confused now, and slightly hurt, shaking his head as his hands came up to rest on the swell of her hips. She slapped his hands away, fighting the tears welling in her eyes. 

"I won't say that I don't notice your scars, Sandor, or that I don't see them; I do. I see them. And I see the way you try to hide them, I see that you're uncomfortable, and I see that you're pained. I see you, you stupid man! I see you, and I understand you, and I won't let you make me feel badly for seeing how gorgeous you are when you forget to be self-conscious!" 

She finished her rant and dragged in a shaky breath. She was frozen in place for a moment; she felt a cathartic release at her outburst, but his expression was completely unreadable as he stared up at her. She was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that she was straddling him, her sex pressed right up against his arousal. She felt the prickling in her eyes and her cheeks began to heat as he stared at her without expression. 

Just as she was about to swing herself out of a straddling position, he caught her elbows and held her in place. 

"I'm a silly moose." He said softly. 

Sansa stared at his face for a moment, then burst into giggles. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle them, even as Sandor began to laugh with her. She collapsed into his body, wrapping her arms around him and laughing breathlessly into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist and pulled her closer, stroking her back as she laughed into his neck. 

When she finally sat up and leaned away from him, he cupped her cheek and smiled at her, more freely than he ever had before. 

"I'm sorry, baby bird." He said softly as he stroked her cheek. "You're right. Everything you said was right. It's not fair that I keep assuming you'll react the same." 

Sansa's breath caught and she felt her cheeks flush harder. "I'm sorry too." She said after a moment. "I've been doing the same thing." 

He gave her a curious look and she sighed, breaking his gaze for the moment. 

"Joff and Ramsay… they made fun of me for everything I liked. I could only enjoy what they enjoyed, only like what they liked. Anything else was stupid, or for little girls. That's why I… had a moment about the bath bombs. I know it's not fair, and I know that I shouldn't keep comparing you to them. But every time I expect you to act like they did, you shock me. You show me understanding, and care. You've shown so thoroughly that you're nothing like them, and it's unfair of me to keep comparing you to them. You're nothing like them, and I know that. And I promise I'll try harder not to think of you and them at the same time." 

She looked back at his face, and was shocked to see the same empathetic wonder that she'd come to expect. 

"Oh little bird…" he sighed, cupping her face again and dragging her back down for a heated kiss. 

The kiss broke after a moment, but his eyes remained closed. She knew he was stealing himself to open up to her in turn, and she gave his shoulders an encouraging rub. 

"I've had a lot of women, little bird." He said finally, staring resolutely over her shoulder. "None of them looked at my face, or touched my face. They wanted the body, and I gave it to them." 

Sansa's heart felt heavy with his confession, and she cupped his face in her hands again. 

"Never?" She repeated softly. 

He hesitated, then a small smile broke. "Well… there was one broad in college that seemed to be able to handle the look." 

Sansa raised an eyebrow and Sandor chuckled again. 

"Her name was Brienne." He said, his fingers stroking up and down Sansa's flank. "We were both on the wrestling team, and both outcasts. She was almost as big as me, and better than any of us in a match. They called her Brienne the Beauty, because she was an ugly bitch." 

He recoiled slightly when Sansa slapped his chest. 

"What? She was! Almost as tall as me, she was big, stocky, bulky, and strong as fuck. That's how we became friends, because the rest of the wrestlers wrote us off as 'big and ugly.'" 

Sansa still frowned at him, and he pushed his index finger into the crease in her brow to relax her severe look. 

"Don't look at me like that, little bird." He chuckled. "Brienne and me, it was never 'romantic.'" He made air quotes with his fingers. "We got drunk one night, sophomore year, and both confessed that we were virgins. We agreed that night to do it together, which I barely remember." He squinted as though that would help him recall. "The next morning, we woke up in my bed. I was mortified and ready for her to accuse me of taking liberties. But all she said was that I wasn't very good, and she left." 

Sansa giggled, and Sandor rewarded her with a brief smile. He squeezed his fingers into the flesh of her hip and waist, casting a quick look down at her tits, which were just barely above water level. 

"Shit got awkward, we avoided each other." Sandor continued. "Then I did some research, read some Cosmo's, asked a friend. A couple weeks later, I brought Brienne back to my dorm and said I was going to do the damn thing right." 

Sandor smiled softly at the memory. "You can thank Brienne for every good feeling I might ever give you." He said with a smile. "She was vocal about what she enjoyed, and what she didn't, and graciously allowed me to practice on her until I knew what the hell I was doing." 

"And where is Brienne now?" Sansa asked in what she hoped was a causal voice, but Sandor's grin said he saw right through her. 

"She's in the south." He said, smirking at Sansa's apparent jealousy. "She's a physical therapist and works with athletes. Haven't seen her in years, but we still talk every so often. She's married now." 

Sansa hummed softly, tracing shapes on the skin of his shoulder. She felt hesitant to be bold now, wondering how many women he'd had for one night and then forgotten about. She didn't want to be one of them. 

"Copper for your thoughts?" He said softly after a moment, and Sansa met his gaze again. 

"I just…" she started, and sighed heavily, breaking his gaze. "I don't want to be another girl you forget in the morning." She said softly, not meeting his gaze as she traced shapes on his shoulder. "If we go further… I don't want to be a one-time thing." 

She met his gaze nervously, and he crashed her mouth against his, cupping her face and pulling her against him. 

"Sandor?" She questioned breathlessly as he began to kiss down her neck. 

"You think I could ever forget you?" He asked softly. "No, little bird. I'll never forget you." 

Sansa bit her lip at the wave of relief that rushed over her, circling her arms around his shoulders as he showered her neck and shoulder in hot, open mouthed kisses. She gave an experimental roll of her hips and suppressed a grin when his hips rose to meet hers. 

She trailed a hand down his chest and stomach, as he kissed and tongued her neck insistently. Her thin fingers wrapped around his erect manhood, and he gasped and jerked, staring up at her with wide eyes. 

He didn't say anything or object as she began to pump his length with her hand. He just stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. She smiled at him as she raised up onto her knees and lined him up with her entrance. His manhood had touched her slit when his hands suddenly circled her arms, preventing her from dropping lower. 

"Little bird." He groaned, a desperation in his eyes that she'd never seen. 

"Sandor…" she whispered back, rolling her hips so her hot, wet core would rub along his length. "I want you." She breathed, flexing her hand and squeezing his cock. 

He groaned wordlessly, letting his head drop back as he loosened his grip on her arms. She bit her lip and began to impale herself on him. She squeaked softly as he sank in a few inches, raising both hands to his shoulders to balance herself as she pushed down. 

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, ghosting his hands down her flank. 

"Uh huh." She grunted, rolling her hips against him, realizing that her natural lubricant was being washed away by the water. 

Sandor tightened his grip on her hips and stilled her again, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked up at her. 

"I'm hurting you." He stated. 

"Sandor-" 

"You're not wet enough." He lifted her slightly, his manhood slipping out of her. 

Sansa began to object, but Sandor quickly wrapped his hands under her thighs and stood, lifting her easily. She yelped and flung her arms around his neck, clinging on to him as he lifted her. He set her gently on the edge of the tub, which was at a perfect height for her to keep her legs wrapped around his hips. She let her hands fall down his arms and stroked his biceps, as she looked him up and down. 

He ducked his head down to her neck and began kissing and licking at the sensitive flesh there, making Sansa sigh and squeeze his arms. She tilted her head to give him more room to work and moaned softly. He seemed to be digging in a box she couldn't see, but she closed her eyes and focused on the way he was kissing her. 

"Sandor?" She asked softly after a moment, trying to break away enough to look at him as he began to grow distracted. 

"Oil based…" he mumbled, and she gave his shoulders a gentle push. 

He stepped back but kept one hand on her waist to steady her. He was breathing hard, his head ducked down, and a few strands of hair falling into his face. He met her gaze and gave her a mischievous grin as he flicked open the bottle he'd found. 

Sansa took the bottle from him and poured a generous amount of the lube into her palm, then reaching for his cock and rubbing it all over him. She heard a soft whine from the back of his throat and smiled as she worked the lube all over his length, making him twitch and jerk in her hands.

She set the bottle aside and looked up at him, biting her lip as she used her legs to tug him closer to her. They kissed for a few moments, stroking each others bodies, before Sandor broke away with a gasp. 

"Fuck, little bird…" he whispered, cupping her face with one hand while he tugged her closer by her hip with the other. 

"Please, Sandor," Sansa whispered, clinging on to him so she could whisper in his ear. "I want you, Sandor, please…" 

He groaned and dropped both hands to her hips, lifting her off the edge of the tub and pulling her in close. One hand left her hip to guide his manhood back into her, and Sansa threw her head back with a high pitched moan as Sandor sank into her. 

Their hips met, and he lowered her back to the edge of the tub, lifting his huge, strong, hands back to her face. He cradled her jaw like she might shatter, and pressed soft kisses to her lips. 

"That better?" He asked softly against her lips. 

"Oh yes…" she moaned, squeezing her fingers hard into his arms. 

He smiled against her lips, then sank back down into the tub, settling on the bench with Sansa straddling him. She kissed him hard, grabbing his hands and pulling them up to cup her breasts as she began to bounce on his cock.

She whined into his mouth as his thumbs brushed over her nipples. He cupped her breasts in his strong hands, then pinched each of her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tugging gently. 

Sansa had one arm thrown around his broad shoulders, and the other pushed up into his hair as she bounced on him, moaning hard and grinding against him. 

"Alayne…" he choked out, nuzzling into her neck. 

"Sandor! Sandor, oh fuck, Sandor…" Sansa had no idea what was coming out of her mouth as she ground her pelvis against his on every bounce. 

He dropped one hand between them and found her clit, stroking her nub in time with the way she bounced on him. Sansa cried out, throwing her head back, and Sandor dove forward to shower her neck in kisses, licks, and bites. 

Just a few moments later, Sansa peaked hard, tightening her fingers in Sandor's hair and grinding hard against him. He growled in her ear, and wrapped his hands under the backs of her thighs as he stood. He climbed out of the tub and carried her to the bed, falling onto it with her cradled carefully in her arms. He pounded into her with abandon as he chased his own peak, and Sansa clung to him, whimpering and moaning in his ear as he moved. 

"Fuck, Alayne, you're so fucking hot…" Sandor growled in her ear as he pounded into her. 

Sansa cried out, bucking against him and working herself back into a frenzy. Sandor grabbed her hip and pulled her hard towards him as he pounded into her, panting heavily into Sansa's neck. 

Sansa orgasmed again as Sandor reached his peak, each of them clinging onto each other as they came. 

Sandor exhaled heavily as he collapsed into the bed beside Sansa, stroking her body from her cheek to her knee as he panted and came down. 

"That was amazing." Sansa breathed, nuzzling her nose against Sandor's. 

"Yeah." He panted. "It was." 

They lay on top of the sheets, gazing at each other for some time, before he began to crawl towards her, tucking her into his arms. Sansa sighed and draped her arm across his waist letting herself be tucked into his chest. They lay there together, panting, for what felt like hours. 

Finally, Sansa began to pull away. 

"Stay." Sandor grunted, catching her arm as she sat up. 

"I can't," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his knuckles then setting his hand back on the duvet. 

"Why?" He whined playfully, rolling onto his back and linking his fingers together behind his head. 

"My daughter." She whispered. "I have to go." 

Sansa quickly dressed, and Sandor sat up to kiss her, pressing their mouths together desperately. 

"Don't go, Alayne…" he murmured, cupping her cheek in his hand. 

Sansa grinned at him, slipping away from his hands and out of the room. She leaned back against the door for a moment, catching her breath, before she hurried off to the hotel lobby, where she could catch a ride home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little filler-y but I think important to establishing the Sansan relationship here. They're learning each other, and loving each other along the way. 
> 
> My demented ass mind is considering writing a smutty Brienne x Sandor oneshot about their time in college together. Is anyone interested in reading such nonsense? 
> 
> Anyways, love me and tell me what you think!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, guys and dolls! Do me a solid and prep those tags one more time, things are gonna start getting a little real really soon.

"Oh fuck!" Sansa cried out, her thighs clenching around Sandor's head. "Don't stop!" She begged. 

"Your eyes are closed." He murmured against her, then sucked her clit between his twisted lips again, making her push his face more firmly between her legs with a short cry of pleasure. "Open your eyes, that was the deal." He reminded her.

She forced her eyes open and met her own gaze in the mirror. Her legs were thrown over Sandor's shoulders, her fingers twisted in the silky, dark strands of his hair. He had pulled her low on the couch so that his arms supported her hips, leaving her completely at the mercy of his questing tongue. Her hair was disheveled and makeup a bit smudgy, but she was surprised to find that Sandor was right; there was something incredibly erotic about watching her own face in the mirror as Sandor pleasured her so thoroughly. She had so little control of her own body that she almost felt like she was watching a stranger. An incredibly wanton stranger who seemed completely unconcerned that her top had been pulled down on one side to expose her breast. 

As though he could read her mind, Sandor raised one hand to her exposed breast, tugging and toying on her rosy, pebbled nipple. She let out a soft mewling sound, almost like that of a kitten purring, and she glanced down to meet his eyes. Even as his mouth still suckled deliciously at her most sensitive area, she could see the smirk in his eye at eliciting such a response from her. 

He dropped his hand from her tit and wrapped it back under her hips to support her. His other hand dipped between her legs and found her entrance. Her hips lifted of their own accord when Sandor began to press two fingers into her, trying desperately to grind herself more firmly into his hand. She made a frustrated noise as he curled his fingers firmly toward himself, pressing hard on that rough patch of skin deep inside her that only he had ever touched, and her heels briefly dug into his back. 

He groaned against her, sending vibrations through her body that started in her clit. She shuddered violently against him, and he began pumping his fingers in and out of her. He made sure to curl his fingers far forward and drag them down inside of her. She was seeing stars, her thighs were shaking uncontrollably around his ears, and all she could do was moan his name writhe against him, nearly sobbing with how close to release she was. 

She looked down at him again, and he met her eyes briefly, a warning heat in gaze reminding her that she was supposed to be watching herself. She obeyed at once, raising her eyes back to her reflection. Her face was so contorted that her pleasure could've been mistaken for agony. She hadn't realized how tightly her toes had curled as her ankles locked together behind his neck. But the sight that made her shriek into her release was the hunger she could plainly see in her own eyes. 

Her torso lurched forward as her arms and legs wrapped around Sandor's head and shoulders, anchoring herself to him as she writhed and grinded against his face. She felt an odd sensation between her legs, liquid bursting forward and great gushes, so much that she could hear it dropping to the floor. Sandor moaned into her sex, the vibrations from his mouth intensifying her orgasm. 

Eventually she must've relaxed her hold enough for him to sit back on his heels, and she slid forward, off the couch and into his arms until she straddled his kneeling form. He wrapped his arms gratefully around her, supporting her entire weight against his huge, strong frame. 

"Fuck, little bird." He murmured into her hair, deft fingers making quick work of removing the rest of her top, leaving her completely naked. "That was so fucking sexy. I haven't stopped thinking about you since Thursday, and making you come like that made the wait more than worth it." He was showering her neck and shoulder in kisses, his hands cupping her bottom and squeezing, even as she still trembled from the previous release he'd given her. "I can't stay much longer, I have to get back to the hospital. Tell me I can have you, Alayne, please." He whispered desperately against her lips. 

She nodded enthusiastically, unable to find her voice yet, and renewed her grip on his shoulders. An odd look crossed his face, somewhere between relief and a wicked grin. He twisted around and pressed her back into the floor. She kept her legs around his hips as he fumbled with his belt, and a moment later his erection sprang free. She bit her lip in anticipation as he lowered himself over her, and brought her hands up to his biceps. Pushed his cock into her and she moaned, lifting her legs higher to wrap around his waist. 

He let out a strangled groaning sound and dropped his forehead to her shoulder as he began to move his hips. 

"I didn't think you'd come today," Sansa murmured in his ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

He lifted his head enough to flash her an incredulous look. 

"Think I'd miss a chance to see you?" His already deep and gravelly voice was husky and Sansa's toes curled. 

She grinned at that and moved one hand to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair again and pulling him down for a searing kiss. He groaned into her mouth, then pulled away and sat back on his heels, seizing her hips and dragging her with him. She yelped in shock, throwing her arms wide reflexively to catch herself on something. 

Sandor chuckled darkly, leaning over her again. "Scared?" He asked in a low, dangerous voice that was almost a growl, even as mirth and hunger danced in his eyes. 

Sansa pushed herself up on her elbows, then brought one hand up to Sandor's face, cupping his scared cheek. Her eyes trailed from his temple to his half burned lips, then all the way down to where the scars disappeared beneath the collar of his black t-shirt. She moved her eyes back to his, and smiled.

"Never." 

His eyes softened at once as a slightly surprised look crossed his face. He moved one hand from her hip and touched her cheek. He grinned and put his hand back on her hip, thrusting hard into her once. 

"Silly bird." His dangerous voice was back, but quieter than before. "Maybe we should change that."

He sat back on his heels again and tugged her hips forward, until her rear rested on the tops of his thighs and his cock was seated to the hilt in her cunt. His hands grazed up the backs of her legs, making her shiver, and pushed her knees towards her chest. He brought her legs together and wrapped one strong arm around her thighs, holding them pressed together against his chest, her ankles dangling over his shoulder. His other hand clamped down on her hip and he began thrusting into her again. 

Her fingers dug into the carpet as she moaned, trying to move her hips against him, limited as her motion was with her legs trapped as they were. He bent down over her again, all but folding her in half, but able to slide deeper into her. Her eyes slipped closed as she cried out wordlessly on every thrust, and her back arched up. 

"Look." Sandor demanded breathlessly. 

Obediently, she opened her eyes and turned her face towards the mirror. But it was Sandor's reflection that she was drawn to; the flex of his shoulder and arm as he held her thighs against him, the roll of his hips as he pounded into her, his hair falling in a curtain around his face. He was huge, breathtaking and menacing at once. As she glanced at her own body, she saw for a moment why he thought she might be afraid. He looked like he could break her. 

She turned again to look at his face, screwed up in pleasure and concentration. He was dangerous and menacing, of course, but she felt inexplicably safe. She shouldn't, he was more fearsome than anyone she'd ever met: if smaller men like Ramsay and Joffrey could hurt her as they did, surely this man could destroy her without breaking a sweat. But he wouldn't. Knowing that he had all that ability to bring harm, that he was choosing not to, made her want to throw her arms around him and kiss him all over his face. 

"Sandor," she whispered, reaching up to touch the arm he had wrapped around her legs. 

His eyes opened to look at her and he slowed his thrusts. 

"Alayne?" He asked softly. 

She trailed her hand along his arm until she reached his hand, and wrapped her fingers around his palm, pulling it forward. He released her legs and stopped thrusting, taking her hands in his. He frowned and looked at her questioningly, sitting back on his heels again. She pulled her ankles off his shoulder and wrapped her legs around his middle again, making sure not to pull back enough for his cock to slip out. 

"Help me up." She whispered, squeezing his hands. 

He complied at once, pulling her up by her hands, then steadying her elbows as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He gave her that questioning look again as she studied his face for a moment. Then she smiled and kissed him as she began to roll her hips against him. He moaned into her mouth and slid his hands around her, one hand between her shoulder blades, pulling her closer, the other on the small of her back, supporting the way her hips were rolling. 

He kissed her back enthusiastically, thrusting his hips up to meet hers. She gasped and moaned into his mouth, and he broke their kiss, trailing his mouth down her jaw and neck. 

"Sandor…" she whispered again, one arm around his head and a hand in his hair, the other around his neck. 

"Fuck, Alayne," he groaned into her shoulder, pulling her tighter against him. 

She came again as his teeth came down on the soft flesh in the crook of her neck, crying out his name and sinking her nails into his flesh. She caught sight of her own reflection again, her mouth forming a perfect O shape as she moaned and her eyes lidded and fluttering. She saw his rough, sun-darkened hands on the pale skin of her back, her thin fingers clenched in his hair and the soft fabric of his t-shirt. His body somehow both filling and surrounding her, enveloping her with such delicacy and care that she might've been mistaken for the most important thing in the world. 

He moaned her name and she felt his cock twitch inside of her, felt the warmth as he spilled his release into her. She clung onto him, closing her eyes and panting. He was breathing hard into her neck and wrapped his arms around her properly, pulling her flush against his chest. 

A moment later he raised his head to meet her gaze, looking at her with wide-eyed wonder. She met his gaze steadily, wondering briefly if he could see the awe and amazement in her eyes as clearly as she could see it in his. She was lost for words, and expected he was too, as they stared at each other without speaking. 

He moved first, leaning forward to kiss her. She opened her mouth for him with a soft moan, and felt him chuckle against her. 

"Alayne…" 

He whispered her name like a prayer as he pressed soft kisses to her face, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek as his mouth trailed down her jaw on the other side. He brought his lips hungrily back to hers, kissing her passionately for a few moments and then breaking away to catch his breath. 

"Tell me who you are." He asked in a whisper, pulling back to meet her gaze. 

"Sandor…" she said, shaking her head slightly in surprise. 

"I feel something here, Alayne. Something real. I know you feel it too, it wouldn't be like _that* if you didn't feel it."_

"I… uh…" 

Sansa's mind was somehow completely blank and running a thousand miles a minute simultaneously. Somehow, in all of her musings it had never occurred to her that Sandor might simply ask who she was. She had only considered that she would tell him or he would figure it out. 

The lights flashed at that moment. 

"Damn, I didn't realize how late it got." Sandor mumbled, fumbling in his pockets for his phone. 

Sansa clambered to her feet, noting as he did so that his cock had been inside her that whole time. He rose to his feet as well, quickly tucking himself away and righting his pants. Sansa was looking around for her clothes, if you could call them that, when Sandor gently grasped her arm and turned her to face him. 

"Don't you get dressed one second before you have to." He instructed playfully, giving her body an appreciative glance. He stepped forward and raised his other hand to tuck her hair back and then settle on the side of her neck. "I want to know you are, little bird. Think about it." 

He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her fiercely. She clung to his shoulders and kissed him back, still surprised by his request. 

"Can I see you again this week?" He asked when he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers. 

"Thursday?" She suggested breathlessly. 

"So long?" He complained, then sighed. "Thursday it is." 

He kissed her again, briefer this time. 

"Do you think you'll have an answer for me then?" He asked softly, looking hesitant. 

"I'll try." She said, cupping his face. 

He kissed her once more, then trailed kisses down her shoulder, across her arm, all the way to her knuckles as he slowly backed away. He gave her body another appreciative one-over, flashed her a cheeky grin, then slipped away. Sansa sank onto the couch and dropped her head in her hands. What the hell was she going to do now? 

After a while she finally stood and gathered up her clothes and shoes. It didn't make any sense to put everything back on when she was going to take it right back off. She regretted that decision straight away, when the girls bombarded her the second she made it to the dressing room. 

"You better tell us everything!" 

"He came back tonight, so then the date went well?" 

"Well go on then!" 

"And what were you doing in there tonight?" 

"Enough! One at a time!" Sansa finally raised her voice to be heard over them. 

"Okay!" Margaery gestured to a row of cosmetics and hair products she'd lined up on the counter, ranging in size from a lipstick tube to a hairspray can. "Where does he fall girth-wise?" 

Sansa's mouth dropped open. "That's really what you want to know first?" She demanded. 

The girls all began to laugh, and Sansa sighed, shaking her head and turning back to the products. She took much longer than she needed to evaluate the size of each of the products, then finally selected a hair gel bottle. She carefully wrapped her fingers around it, and then didn't quite touch. 

"That's about right." She mumbled, turning red and putting the bottle back down. 

The girls "ooh'd" and Margaery shushed them quickly. 

"And how long?" She asked, bringing her two index fingers together in front of her, about two inches apart. "Stop me when I get there." She began to slowly move her fingers away from each other, watching Sansa closely. 

The girls had begun to whoop again and Margaery's eyebrows were raised, when Sansa finally mumbled "stop" and averted her gaze as the girls fell silent. 

"And you fucked him?" Shae asked, half alarmed, half impressed. 

"Yes, I fucked him!" She said, exasperated. "May I get dressed now?" 

The girls dispersed and all continued to get dressed back in their street clothes.

"You're coming for a drink and telling us everything." Margaery informed her as she came to lean against the wall next to Sansa. 

"I know." She said, rolling her eyes. She glanced around them, then leaned closer to Margaery. "He asked me if I'll tell him who I am." She whispered to her friend. 

Margaery's eyebrows shot up again. "Are you going to?" She asked, also in a whisper. 

"I don't know." Sansa murmured, then pulled a t-shirt over her head. "I still think he'll be upset when he finds out, but now that he's asked…" 

She sighed and looked at her friend pleadingly. Margaery looked back, frowning as she seemed to mull it over. Sansa finished getting dressed, then plopped into a chair to brush out her hair. 

"Did he say what he would want a relationship to look like?" Margaery asked. "Does he want to keep seeing you like this, is he looking for a housewife?" 

"Oh Gods." Sansa dropped her head into her hands. "I didn't even think about that." 

"Come on, let's go get a drink." Margaery linked her arm through Sansa's and dragged her out the back door. 

"Red!" A voice called from behind them. They turned and saw Bronn jogging towards them. "Name Walda Bolton mean anything to you?" He asked when he reached them. 

Sansa's blood ran cold. "Ramsay's step-mum." 

Bronn was tapping on his phone. "She's checked in at a hotel just outside town, off the Kings Road. Don't fret yet, I'll go check it out." 

"Should I go straight home?" Sansa asked in alarm. 

"No, stay here for now. I'll let you know what I find." Just like that, he strode away back across the street. 

Sansa blinked after him, eyes wide with fear. 

"Come on, sweetling, let's get you a glass of wine." Margaery wrapped an arm around her and led her into the bar. 

*** 

Sansa ended up spending that night with Margaery, fearing the prospect of going home alone with a Bolton in town. Walda had always been kind to Sansa, and loved to spoil Lyanna, but Sansa was weary. 

Bronn had told her nothing seemed amiss yet, so Sansa dressed and went about her normal Sunday. While she waited in the Starbucks drive-thru for her coffee, she briefly wondered what it would be like to have Sandor here with her now. How did he like his coffee? Would they bicker over who's turn it was to pay? Would he insist on getting her a slice of lemon pound cake, which she loved but rarely splurged on? 

She retrieved Lyanna from Gilly's house, and found her mind on Sandor again as she lifted her daughter high in the air. Lyanna squealed with delight, and Sansa thought how much higher in the air she would be if Sandor lifted her the same way. Would Sandor even care to meet her daughter? Would Lyanna like him? Would his scars scare her, or would she make an unfortunate, toddler-esque inappropriate comment about them? Would that upset him if she did? 

Sansa pinched the bridge of her nose and vowed to keep Sandor off her mind the rest of the day. But try as she might, she kept picturing Sandor by her side. She wondered if he would come with her to the farmers market, if he would engage in the merits of this fruit or that. Would he get frustrated when she took 10 minutes to select what flavor of tea she wanted for this week, or which fresh herbs? 

It was the same when they met Arya for lunch. What would Sandor and Arya talk about? What would Arya think of the great hulking beast of a man Sansa had begun to fall for? What would Gendry think? 

By the time Sansa settled Lyanna down in front of the TV so she could make dinner, she'd stopped fighting the impulse to imagine Sandor taking part in her normal life. She imagined him sitting on the floor with Lyanna, or offering to help cut vegetables. She wondered what his favorite meal was, or if he would ever cook for her. 

By the time Lyanna was in bed and Sansa was settling alone onto the couch with a glass of wine, she was convinced that she needed to bite the bullet and tell Sandor who she was. She looked at the empty seat to her right and sighed, imagining how different she would feel if Sandor occupied the other side of the couch. 

She pulled out her phone and texted Margaery her decision, so she couldn't chicken out. Her stomach did a little flip as she hit send, and Margaery responded almost instantly. Sansa rolled her eyes at her friend and tapped out a quick response, then made her way to her room. She set her wine glass on her dresser than began flicking through her closet to pick out an outfit to reveal herself to Sandor in. 

After a few minutes, her phone rang. She scooped it up and rolled her eyes when she saw Margaery's name and picture. She answered with a sigh as she returned to her closet. 

"Yes, Margaery?" 

"So how are you going to do it?" Margaery cut to the chase. 

"I'm doing great, Margaery, just spent the day with Lyanna, thanks for asking. How are you?" Sansa replied dryly to tease her friend. 

"Sansa! This is too important to waste time with pleasantries!" Margaery objected sternly. "Now so help me Sansa, if you don't tell me right now what you're planning, I will come over!" 

"No! Lyanna's asleep! I don't know anyways, I can't think of anything to do." Sansa said. 

"Well are you going to tell him at the hospital as Sansa, or elsewhere as Alayne?" Margaery asked. 

"At the hospital, I think. I'm looking at outfits now." Sansa said, pushing her shoulder up to cradle the phone against her ear as she held up a blouse and skirt and turned to the mirror. 

"Well do you want to be able to speak 100% privately, like in his office? Or somewhere more neutral like the cafeteria?" 

"Gods, I don't know." Sansa whined. "Private will probably be better, I don't know how he'll react." 

"Okay, so you'll go to his office." Margaery said decisively. "I think you should go in the late morning, so you can talk over lunch if you need to." 

"You're right." Sansa agreed, holding up another outfit. 

"What have you picked to wear?" Margaery asked next. "You have to look positively stunning." 

"I think I'm going to wear my charcoal pencil skirt…" Sansa said distractedly as she flicked again through her blouses. 

"Oh yes, your ass looks fantastic in that one! Is it stretchy at all?" 

"Stretchy?" Sansa repeated. 

"Yes, so he can hike it up out of the way so you can fuck on his desk." Margaery said casually. 

"Margaery!" Sansa squealed, turning red as a tomato. 

"Something to consider, darling!" Margaery said in a sing song voice. 

Sansa ended the conversation quickly after that. She made her final selections and hung them off the back of the door, then flicked the light off and climbed into bed. She still didn't have a clue what she'd say to Sandor when the time came, but she realized now that she was excited more than nervous. After their last few encounters, she didn't think that Sandor would stay mad for long, if he was at all. She rolled over to face the empty side of her bed, trying to imagine Sandor's hulking frame lying beside her. This bed wasn't long enough for him, but she didn't think he'd complain much. She fell asleep thinking in 24 hours, he might be lying right there next to her. 

***

Sansa woke before her alarm the next morning with a smile on her face. She practically skipped to the bathroom with her excitement, and hummed to herself as she showered and washed her hair. 

She put on music on her phone as she got ready, singing along quietly as she applied her makeup. She put on more her usual mascara and lip gloss, but kept it tame compared to how much she wore at the club. She smudged on some dark eyeliner and mauve lipstick, and even added a little bit of blush. She braided one side of her hair away from her face at the temple, like Margaery had done for her date with Sandor. She scrunched some mousse into her hair and left it to dry in her natural curls. 

She bounced down the hallway and began to dress; she'd picked a sheer navy blue button down blouse to go with her charcoal pencil skirt. Sansa did note as she smoothed the skirt down that it did have a little bit of stretch to it. She blushed at her own thought, silently shaking herself. 

She'd known since the second she woke up exactly what she would do. She would come to his office; the door was always open, so she'd step into the doorway and rap her knuckles against the door to get his attention. She'd smile at him and say, *"do you have a moment, Sandor?"* She was fairly sure that just saying his first name would be enough for him to put the pieces together, but if not, she'd step closer and take off her glasses. She'd look right into his eyes, and maybe touch his chest or his arm if he came around the desk. She'd give him a few moments to take it in, to say something if he wanted. Then she'd say, *"I decided to tell you who I am."* 

That was as far as she could plan, since Sandor's reactions were always so unpredictable to her, but she was satisfied with her plan. She wore her strappy heels that she'd worn on the day of the interview with Ros, tossing a pair of flats into her bag in case of emergency, then turned to the mirror. She kept her jewelry simple, hoop earrings and a direwolf charm on a thin chain around her neck. Finally, she put on her glasses. She was confident that she'd done a perfect blend of Sansa and Alayne in her look, confident that Sandor would recognize her as both of them. 

Her good mood persisted as she dropped Lyanna at daycare and arrived at the hospital. She chatted with the barista at the cart in the hospital lobby, she held the elevator for a stranger, she chirped a cheery "good morning!" to a nurse she'd seen around. She hummed to herself as she logged into her computer, and grinned at Podrick when he arrived. 

"You're in a good mood." He observed as he settled his things on his desk. 

"It's a good day." She answered with a smile. 

Pod raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further. She noticed him shooting curious glances her way occasionally, and smiled harder every time. 

"You look stunning!" Margaery gushed when she arrived, urging Sansa to stand up and turn so she could take in the whole outfit. "It's perfect! I'm so proud!" Margaery mimed wiping a tear.

"Stop it!" Sansa giggled. "I wasn't _that_ bad before!" 

"What in the seven hells is going on?" Podrick finally interjected, looking bewildered. 

Margaery glanced at Sansa for permission, then filled Podrick in. 

"Sansa's decided to tell Sandor who she is!" Margaery explained, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. 

"Wow! I'm happy for you!" Pod walked over to them. "Let me see the outfit too, I'm invested in this as much as Margaery is." 

Sansa blushed and spun again, then struck a dramatic model pose. All three of them burst into laughter a moment later. 

"Okay, okay, let's get to work now!" Sansa said, walking back around her desk to sit down. 

The morning went by quickly and uneventfully. Around 10am, Sansa noticed Margaery start to shoot her pointed looks every few minutes. Sansa grinned each time and shook her head. It wasn't quite time yet, she needed another few minutes to psych herself up. 

At about 10:30, Sandor and Tormund came through the door. Sansa squeaked in surprise and shot to her feet to greet them, reflexively averting her eyes from Sandor then immediately kicking herself. She _wanted_ him to recognize her now, damn it! 

"Good morning, doctors!" She squeaked, nodding to Sandor's shoulder then to Tormund. 

Sandor barely glanced at her, rolling his eyes as he walked past her, right to their usual corner where the old burn files were. 

"You look very nice today, Sansa." Tormund commented, hovering by her desk for a moment. 

"Thank you, Tormund." She replied, trying to smile confidently in spite of the hot color in her cheeks. 

"Special occasion?" Tormund raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh, it's just a coffee date I'm hoping to have later." She said slyly, holding Tormund's eye. 

She wanted to look and see if Sandor had noticed, but resisted. Tormund did not. He flashed a wicked grin as he glanced toward Sandor, then gave Sansa a smug smirk. 

"A date you're _hoping_ to have?" His innocent tone was almost laughable. 

"That's right." Sansa said, smiling wider. "I'm not sure if it will happen or not yet." 

"Hmm." Tormund raised his eyebrow and studied her for a moment. "Well Sansa, I hope the person in mind is, ah, _receptive_ of your invitation. He'd be a fool not to accept, if you ask me." 

Sansa's hands clenched with the effort to not whip around and look at Sandor, especially when Tormund flashed another wicked grin is his direction. Sansa quickly sat down in her chair, heart pounding erratically. Tormund grinned down at her as he strode over to join Sandor. 

Sansa tried to control her breathing. She was so nervous now, with him in such close proximity. Her earlier confidence and excitement was nowhere to be found. She glanced nervously at Margaery. 

_'Do it!'_ Margaery mouthed at her. 

Sansa shook her head and bit her lip, threading her hands together to try to keep them from trembling. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing for a few moments, until her rate slowed to an acceptable nervous rate. She opened her eyes again and looked at Margaery, who gave her an encouraging nod. 

Sansa rose hesitantly to her feet and glanced at Sandor. He was kneeling next to a box, a file open on his raised leg as he looked up at Tormund, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. 

_'Let them finish.'_ Sansa mouthed to Margaery, jerking her head at the doctors. 

Margaery rolled her eyes and turned back to her computer, shaking her head. Sansa picked up her coffee mug and started walking around her desk to the coffee machine at the back of the room. 

Her phone rang just as she made it past the edge of her desk. She turned back and leaned across the desk to pluck her receiver off the handle. 

"Records, this is Sansa." She greeted.

Silence. 

"Hello? If anyone's there, I can't hear you." She leaned on her toes to try to see the called ID. "Hello?" 

The door banged open behind her and she flinched at the noise. At that exact moment, she knew exactly what was about to happen, and felt like she should've known all along. There was no way around it, no way out. She knew the exact moment his gaze landed on her, because she felt a cold shiver, like ice water dumped down her spine. She let out a small gasp and the receiver tumbled from her hand. 

"Sansa! There you are, my love!" 

She shuddered. His voice felt like knives on her skin, cutting deep into her memories. His voice was honeyed, sweet and affectionate, almost enough to convince even her. Almost. Her mug slipped from her hand and she watched it fall in slow motion, blinking helplessly down at it as it shattered. She shuddered again, remembering the cold look in his blue eyes. She'd see them again as soon as she turned around. 

She didn't turn before she said his name; she'd been 100% sure of his identity since the moment the door opened. Her fate, at this moment, was sealed. 

"Ramsay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY NOW BEFORE YOU ALL COME FOR MY THROAT, please remember the 2000 words of smut I gave you at the beginning of the chapter. I'm not completely evil afterall. 
> 
> I had some major writers block problems with this chapter. I started it and scraper it probably 5 or 6 times. I just sat down and lowered through, and I've spent almost the last 12 hours trying to finish this chapter. I'm posting right away without a lot of editing, I just gave it a once over, so if any parts seem weird or rushed, please let me know! 
> 
> The good news is, the next 2 or 3 chapters have basically written themselves, so hopefully I'll be getting updates out a little quicker for a while. 
> 
> As always, please tell me what you think!


	17. Chapter 17

Sansa stared down at the shattered glass that used to be her mug. Her breath echoed in her ears and her heart was pounding. She blinked once, twice, then raised her gaze to Margaery, who was looking at her with a concerned frown. 

She turned around finally and faced the door. There he was, like he stepped out of a nightmare. Ramsay Bolton. She saw triumph in his icy blue eyes and suppressed a shudder. Whatever he was here for, he had no doubts about whether he'd get it. 

"What are you doing here?" She asked. 

"Why, I've come to take you home." He said it like it was obvious, raising an eyebrow and taking a few steps forward. "This has gone on quite long enough, wouldn't you say?" 

"No." Sansa shook her head. 

"Come now, dear! You've had your fun, it's time to come home now. Back to your real life." 

"No!" Sansa repeated, louder. She took a step back. "I left you, Ramsay. I live here now, and I'm not going back with you." 

Ramsay made a disappointed sound and pouted, rocking back on his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

"You hurt me, Sansa. How could you even think you belong anywhere but with me?" He asked imploringly. 

"Sansa?" Podrick spoke softly from beside her. She glanced at him and saw that he'd risen to his feet. "Is this your ex?" 

She opened her mouth to say he was, but Ramsay spoke before she could. 

"Her ex?" Ramsay repeated, then let out a loud, mocking laugh. "I'm not her ex, boy. I'm her husband." He moved his icy gaze back to Sansa. "You broke our family apart, Sansa. Now help me put it back together. Come home. Wives should be with their husbands. Daughters should be with their fathers. How is my daughter, Sansa? Does she ask about me?" 

Sansa looked away, fighting tears. "Don't talk about her." She hissed. 

"Don't talk about my daughter?" Ramsay repeated, laughing again. "That's not a reasonable thing to ask, my darling wife. I miss little Lyanna so very much. Please, how is she doing?" 

Sansa was almost hyperventilating now, groping behind herself for the desk so she could steady herself. 

"I want to see her." Ramsay announced when she didn't respond. 

"Absolutely not!" Sansa said with more strength than she felt. 

"You will let me see her, wife. It would, of course, be the simplest course of action for both of you to come home. But, if you refuse, I suppose Lyanna can learn to live without you." He flashed an evil grin. 

"You won't touch her!" Sansa snarled, stepping forward. "You stay away from her, Ramsay!" 

From her peripheral vision she saw Tormund take a step forward. She took a steadying breath. He couldn't hurt her here. Not with Tormund, and Podrick, and Sandor all here to stop him. She had to stay strong. 

"I'm taking Lyanna home, Sansa. The only thing that's up to you is if you'll come quietly… or force me to destroy you first." He smirked. 

"Think you better go, friend." Tormund interjected stiffly, taking another step forward and glaring at Ramsay. 

"Destroy me?" Sansa repeated in spite of herself, frowning.

"Oh yes, my love." Ramsay's grin widened. "I have more than enough information to do so. Once the lawyers and social services get involved, you'll be lucky to see her once a year." 

"What are you talking about?" Sansa demanded. 

"Come now, darling, who will they award custody to? Me, with my father and step-mum's money and support? Or you? The one who snuck away in the dead of night? The two-coin stripper and whore? You don't have anyone on your side, except maybe that private investigator that's friends with the DJ at the, ah, establishment you work for. It'll be an easy choice for the courts."

Sansa inhaled sharply and stepped back. Ramsay's eyes flashed with triumph. 

"We all know what happens in strip clubs, Sansa. Illegal drugs and prostitution. I know about that great beast of a man you've been seeing. Who would look after our daughter all those late nights you spend sucking dick for a copper?" Ramsay moved closer still, almost close enough to touch her. 

"I said it's time to go!" Tormund raised his voice. 

Ramsay barely spared Tormund a glance, then looked back at Sansa. 

"I see you've chosen the hard way." He said with a sad sigh, cocking his head. He pulled a business card out of his pocket and held it out to her. "My lawyer's information." 

She reached a shaky hand to take the card. She had almost touched it when Ramsay seized her wrist and wrenched her across the space between them. She gasped as she collided with him, his other hand quickly wrapping around her waist to trap her. 

"Let me go!" She shouted, trying to twist away. 

"Don't even think of trying anything. I know everything. I know what you do, and I know exactly where to find you." He released her and stepped back. "You can't hide from me anymore… Alayne." She gasped. No! "And I'd advise you not to try." 

He walked away from her to the door, then turned back. 

"I miss having you to warm my bed, Alayne. I pray you decide to come home." He gave another wicked grin and disappeared through the double doors. 

Sansa released a shaky breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. 

"Sansa?" Margaery called from somewhere behind her. Somewhere far away, probably, judging by the echo. 

"Are you alright?" That was Tormund, a small part of her mind observed as her breathing accelerated. 

She shook her head, noticing her hands were shaking. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she looked around the room. Margaery had stood up. Podrick was coming towards her, raising one hand to reach out for her. Tormund was farther than Podrick. His mouth was moving and he looked worried, but she didn't hear anything he said. Then he saw Sandor. He was on his feet, staring at her. She could see everything on his face for a moment; shock, recognition, hurt, anger, disappointment, betrayal. She met his silvery eyes, and his face hardened into an unreadable mask. She inhaled sharply, the edges of her vision going dark as she swayed on the spot. 

"She's going to faint!" Margaery shouted, from somewhere very far away, she could barely hear her. "Tormund!" 

The last thing she felt was falling. 

*** 

_Beep._

Fuck, her head hurt. 

_Beep._

And everything was so goddamn bright. 

_Beep._

What's that beeping sound?

_Beep._

Sansa forced her eyes open against the blinding light and tried to look around. She groaned softly as blurry shapes came into focus, but quickly gave up and shut her eyes before she could really discern anything. 

_Beep._

The blankets felt scratchy on her skin, she realized. Nothing like her fluffy comforter. She stroked the scratchy fabric again. Definitely not her bed. 

_Beep._

She stretched slowly and felt a sharp pain in her ankle. She gasped softly. Fuck, had she fallen down? Probably those stupid shoes she wore for Sandor. 

_Beep._

Sandor! Wait, she hadn't spoken to him yet, had she? She'd seen him, she was almost certain, but didn't think they'd spoken at all. 

_Beep._

She had a sick feeling in her gut though. Something was wrong, really wrong. 

_Beep._

Ramsay. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Oh fuck. 

_Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!Beep!_

Sansa bolted upright as everything came back to her. She tried to swing out of the hospital bed she was in, but dozens of cords and wires held her in place. She let out a frustrated groan as she tugged at the cords, ripping an oxygen mask off her face as she went. 

"Calm down, darlin', you're alright!" An unfamiliar voice said soothingly. 

Sansa flinched away from hands that touched her, managing to pull two sensors off her chest. 

"Calm down, Sansa!" That voice she did recognize. Margaery? 

"I have to g-get my daughter." Sansa stuttered, her hands already shaking with nerves. 

"It's alright, Sansa, we're right here." Margaery's soothing voice spoke again. 

"No, I need my daughter." Sansa tried to explain, twisting away from more hands. "Stop it! Don't touch me!" She shouted, striking blindly at the people who tried to pull her back into bed. "Let me go! I need to get my daughter!" 

"Sansa!" A harsh voice spoke now, rough hands touching her cheeks, a familiar face coming into focus in front of her. "Calm down, Sansa! Breathe!" 

"Jon!" She sobbed in relief, her hands flying to his arms.

"Breathe!" He repeated. She inhaled sharply. "Good! Again." He said, still cupping her face so she looked only at him. She inhaled again. "One more time." He instructed, and she obeyed. "You're alright, Sansa." Jon said, sinking down to perch at the edge of her bed as Sansa's heart rate began to slow. He dropped his hands from her cheeks and took her hands in his. 

"What happened, Jon?" She asked. 

"They said Ramsay showed up." He told her, cocking his head. "They said you had a verbal altercation, he threatened you, and after he left, you fainted." 

"Where's Lyanna?" She asked. 

"Arya picked her up from daycare, she's safe." Jon said. 

Sansa exhaled with relief, and her eyes moved to Margaery.

"He seems to have put it together." Margaery answered the unasked question, stepping closer on the other side of the bed from Jon. "He's not saying much, but he's here." 

Sansa nodded her understanding, leaning back on the bed slightly, mind racing. 

"Where did Arya take Lyanna?" Sansa asked after a few moments, turning to Jon. 

He frowned. "Didn't ask. I assume Arya and Gendry's house." 

"No, he said he knew where to find her." Sansa whispered. "That's not safe. Go get them, Jon! Find somewhere to take them!" Sansa begged. The beeping on the monitor next to her bed sped up again. 

"Breathe, Sansa!" Jon instructed firmly again. "Arya and Gendry are more than capable-" 

"I don't care!" Sansa cut him off, starting to fight the wires again. "Go to them, Jon! You keep her safe for me! Do you hear me? Keep Lyanna safe!" 

"I'll not leave you here alone!" Jon said sharply. 

"She's not alone." Bronn walked in at that moment, and Jon frowned at him. 

"He's a friend." Sansa told Jon. "I trust him."

Jon sighed, but nodded and rose to his feet. 

"I'll take care of them, Sansa." He said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "You have my word. They're safe." 

"Bring her here!" Sansa called as her cousin began to retreat. "I need to see her." 

He nodded once, then slipped out the door and disappeared. A moment later, Ygritte appeared in the door, looking interestedly in the direction Jon had disappeared. 

"Who was that then?" Ygritte asked, turning sparking eyes on Sansa as she crossed the room. 

"My cousin." Sansa said, smiling in spite of herself. 

"Is he single?" Ygritte asked as she took Jon's vacated seat, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. 

"Ygritte!" Margaery objected, and all three girls giggled. 

"Is it true, then?" Ygritte asked after a moment. "Are you the big man's mystery girl?" 

Sansa shot a confused look from Ygritte to Margaery. Margaery shifted uncomfortably at her side. 

"It's complicated." Sansa finally said, not wanting to betray Sandor further by fueling any rumors that had already started. 

"I've suspected there was something since I brought you that coffee." Ygritte mused, watching her curiously. "Has it been going on since then?" 

Sansa averted her gaze, looking down at her hands. 

"Because he's been different since then." Ygritte went on. "Happier. He's still a grumpy old fuck, but he's not been so dour. He cracks jokes occasionally, doesn't snarl at everybody." 

"Really?" Sansa asked softly, peeking at Ygritte. 

The other redhead smiled triumphantly. "We might not have known your name, but we've all been thanking you from level 9." Ygritte winked. 

Sansa blushed, and Ygritte left. Margaery stayed another few minutes, then left as well, leaving Sansa with Bronn. 

"I'm sorry, lass." He said, frowning as he approached the bed. "Still don't know how he managed to get to you without me catching notice." 

"It's alright." Sansa said, taking his hand. "I know you did everything you could. Thank you for being here now." 

He nodded and sat down again, closer to her bed. They only sat in silence for a few moments before another doctor came in. They explained that she'd hit her head when she fell and she had a concussion, and that it had appeared she'd also sprained her ankle somehow. They were keeping her overnight for observation. Sansa sighed as the doctor left. 

"Will you stay with my daughter tonight?" Sansa asked. 

"I'll stay with you." Bronn said. "Your sister and cousin have your daughter. If my research on your sister is accurate, she's more capable of defending your daughter than I am." He smirked. 

Sansa sighed again. Arya was making a name for herself in the underground fighting community in Molestown, going by the moniker "Wolf Bitch." But she was so tiny, and her little sister to boot, so Sansa had a hard time imagining Arya as particularly dangerous. 

"Do you know how long it was that I was unconscious?" Sansa asked after a pause. 

"Not sure." Bronn answered. "I think it was a few hours though." 

Sansa nodded and sighed. Another nurse came in to take her vitals and ask questions, distracting Sansa for a moment. The nurse left, and Sansa and Bronn sat in awkward silence. Bronn was fidgeting, and Sansa knew he'd rather be out trying to track Ramsay than babysitting. 

"You can go, Bronn." Sansa offered after a  
while. "I'm sure I'm perfectly safe here."

Bronn gave her an incredulous look. "It would take me both hands to count how many people would have my balls if I left you here alone, lass." 

She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. How had she managed to drag so many people into her mess? 

She looked up when she saw movement in the hall. Daenerys and Shae were hurrying down the corridor, and as they approached from the right, Sansa saw a shadow move to the left. Her eyes snapped to the shadow, and she was sure it was actually Sandor's shoulder. Especially once he shifted again and she saw Dr. Dondarrion standing against the opposite wall. 

Fuck! 

Daenerys and Shae entered her little room, closing the door behind them. 

"How are you feeling?" Shae asked at once, rushing to Sansa's side and pressing the back of her hand to Sansa's forehead as if to feel for a fever. 

"I'm alright, I suppose." Sansa said, scooting up a little in the bed. "You didn't have to come." She gave the girls a grateful smile. 

"Nonsense!" Daenerys waved a dismissive hand. "Anyways, we think we figured out how he found you." 

Bronn and Sansa both sat up straighter. 

"How?" Sansa asked hoarsely. 

Daenerys pulled out her phone and turned the screen to Sansa. It was an Instagram photo of Myranda and Ramsay. They were arm in arm, laughing, surrounded by a large group. 

"Who posted this?" Sansa demanded. 

"One of his step-mum's sisters, Mary Beth Frey." Daenerys said. "Explains why that vile bitch Myranda disappeared so suddenly." 

Sansa's gut twisted uncomfortably. Dancing. The one thing she didn't think would ever lead Ramsay back to her. Only a handful of people at Lost Ones knew her real name, she thought she had anonymity there. She sank back against the pillow, biting her lip. 

"What do you need?" Shae asked. "Is there anything we can do?" 

"No…" Sansa sighed. She was trying to think of a plan that didn't involve packing up and leaving again, but she was coming up blank. The only question now was where she would go, and how she would get there without Ramsay being able to track her down again. 

Shae and Daenerys stayed a few minutes longer, then they left as well, telling her to call if she needed anything. Bronn stood as they left and peeked out into the hallway. 

"Your big man is still out there." He told Sansa, leaning against the wall next to the door. 

Sansa gave a noncommittal hum, blushing when she heard the beeping on the heart monitor accelerate. Bronn frowned. 

"You're scared of him?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"No, no of course not." She blushed harder. "He, um… he didn't know who I was. Until Ramsay said it." 

"Ah…" Bronn nodded in understanding. "You got quite an awkward conversation ahead of you, eh?" 

"Something like that…" She mumbled, averting her eyes. 

Bronn chuckled. "Well I need a piss and a coffee, he looks more than capable of handling your protection for a few minutes. This is as good a time as any." 

"Bronn! No!" Sansa hissed in alarm, wide-eyed and shaking her head. 

Bronn smirked and opened the door. Sansa buried her face in her hands, cursing softly as Bronn stepped into the hall. 

"Oi mate, mind sitting with her for a bit? I need a piss." Bronn didn't wait for an answer before strolling away, winking at her over his shoulder through the window as he passed. 

Sansa peeked between her fingers and saw Sandor slowly coming to the door. She dropped her hands and took a deep breath.

"Hi." She said after a moment, biting her lip. 

"Hi." He repeated. "May I come in?" He asked after a long moment. 

"Yes." Her voice broke. She was unable to meet his eye and looked around furtively for something to stare at. 

Sandor stepped inside and shut the door behind him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as Sandor came across the room, opening them again when she heard him sit in Bronn's vacated chair. She was chewing the inside of her cheek nervously, twisting her hands together in her lap as she finally met his gaze. His expression was unreadable, and he met her gaze with a steady intensity that made her shiver. 

She averted her gaze from his again, swallowing heavily. She didn't know what to say. She felt humiliated that Ramsay had shown up like that, laid bare information she wanted private, and revealed her identity to Sandor all in one go. The only good thing about it was that Ramsay didn't seem to realize that the man she'd been seeing outside the club was in the room, which made her think he hadn't been doing his spying himself. 

She was staring blankly at the door handle, chewing her lip and lost in thought, when Sandor broke the silence. 

"Did you know all along?" He asked. 

Her eyes snapped back to him. His voice had a dead, emotionless tone to it. Not like he was indifferent, but that he was forcefully detaching from the situation. 

"Yes." She breathed after a moment. 

She saw an emotion glance across his face, but he schooled his expression back into a blank mask before she could name it. 

"Did you ever think to tell me?" He asked in that same blank tone. 

"I thought about it every time I saw you, and then some." She said softly, looking down at her hands again. 

"Why didn't you?" 

When she peeked at him, she saw his eyes had softened slightly, but his mouth was still set in a hard line. Hers was dry as a Dornish desert all of a sudden. She swallowed and averted her eyes again, her heart beginning to pound and breath quickening. 

"Answer me." He was suddenly closer, one hand pressed into the bed next to her thigh, the other curling around the frame behind her head as he leaned down toward her. "Why didn't you tell me who you are?" 

She opened her mouth and spoke the words, without fully registering them until they passed from between her lips; but she knew at once they were the absolute truth. 

"I was afraid you'd stop seeing me if I did." 

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face slightly away from his, bracing herself for harsh words, or maybe even a physical blow. But neither came. She felt a puff of air across her cheek as he exhaled sharply, then pushed himself upright and stepped back. 

"Ah. I see." He turned away from her abruptly, inclining his head to make his hair fall forward to cover his face. 

She frowned at him. Why had that seemed to upset him? 

He turned away from her, facing the door and shoving his hands in his pockets. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, and she watched him silently, biting her lip. Gods, this was all going so wrong! 

She was about to move, to reach for him, to speak his name, when his shoulders slumped and he released a cold, humorless chuckle that made her flinch. 

"I'm such a fucking idiot." He addressed the ceiling softly. "I can't fucking believe…" He whirled around to face her then, rage glimmering in his eyes and his mouth set in a snarl. "I fucking fell for it. Fell for you. It was an act, of course it was a fucking act. You can't even look at me now, when you're not being paid to. You've never looked at me here." 

He withdrew his hands from his pockets and stepped forward. She flinched and shut her eyes, reflexively, and he barked another cold laugh. 

"Aye, that's the way of it then. Should've fucking known. You are just a whore, aren't you? And just really fucking good at your job." 

She flinched again, at his words this time, and felt tears welling in her eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze from him now, looming over her with anger coming off him in waves. 

"That's not-" she began in a trembling voice, but he cut her off. 

"Spare me." He spat at her, turning away again. "Such a fucking idiot…" he repeated to himself, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at the ground. 

Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she stared at his back, mouth hanging open in hurt and horror. Then anger overcame her and she glared at his back. 

"You are a fucking idiot." She said harshly, a snarl twisting her own lips. 

His head snapped around to look at her, and she saw hurt flash across his face. That ignited her anger further. How dare he look hurt by her words after all he'd just said to her? She seized the pillow from behind her shoulders and hurled it across the room at him. It hit his elbow and tumbled to the floor. His eyes dropped to it, then raised back to hers, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

"I thought you knew who I was." Her voice had raised with her anger, tears still spilling down her cheeks. "I recognized you at once, after all. I thought you were playing a game, or something. It wasn't until that night you took me home, when you didn't check my ID, that I finally realized you didn't know. And then I was afraid if you found out, you wouldn't want to see me anymore. Not once you knew I was a real person." 

She had rolled to her knees, her fingers clenched on the rail of the bed. Sandor's arms had dropped to his sides and he'd turned back to her, now staring at her with wide eyes looking almost apologetic. 

"Little bird…" he took a step forward and reached for her. 

"Don't touch me!" She hissed, smacking his hand away. He dropped it at once and faltered back a bit under her glare. "I thought you knew me." She choked out through her tears. "I thought you'd understand! I was going to tell you today, because you'd asked. You'd finally asked, so I thought you would understand. But no, all it took was my _husband_ ," she let out her own dark laugh at the word, "my _husband_ who you know I left in the middle of the night. My _husband_ who beat me and cut me and--" she choked off with a sob, burying her face in her hands. 

"Sansa…" 

"I said _don't touch me!_ " She smacked his hands away again. "My _husband_ shows up. And now I'm _just a whore_." She sobbed again, pressing one hand to her mouth as the other returned to the rail, gripping it hard to steady herself. 

He broke her gaze now and looked down, his good cheek turning pink. 

"I shouldn't have said that…" he murmured. "I'm sorry." 

He looked back up at her, frowning, with sorrow and regret in his eyes. She dragged in a shaky breath and shut her eyes, more tears spilling down her cheeks. 

"I shouldn't have said any of it. I'm sorry, little bird." 

She kept her eyes shut as she began to shake with sobs, sitting back into the bed from her knees. Ramsay had ruined everything. He'd somehow managed to infiltrate every facet of the new life she was trying to build for herself, and in under ten minutes, he'd taken it all away. 

She heard Sandor move and her eyes opened, ready to smack his hands away from her again even as some part of her desperately wished for him to wrap his strong arms around her and make her feel safe. But he was dragging Bronn's vacated chair closer to her bed, settling himself in it, and placing his hand next to hers on the rail, not quite touching her. 

"Shhh…" he murmured, his other hand reaching for her then faltering, falling back to his knee as he remembered her previous smacks. "It's alright. You're alright. Let it all out. I'm here." He murmured. 

Without thinking about it, she moved her pinky finger slightly to brush against his thumb. He returned the touch, stroking his thumb down the side of her finger. She pressed her other hand tighter to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. 

"Let me hold you, little bird." His raspy murmur wavered slightly, his thumb still dragging up and down her finger. 

She gasped in a few more deep breaths, then opened her swollen, red eyes to look at him. He looked forlorn, desperate, and so apologetic, and her resolve wavered. She was so angry at him, yet the idea of feeling his solid body next to hers was irresistible; she needed his strength now, and he was offering it. She gasped another breath, swallowed thickly, then finally nodded once, reaching for him. 

He stood so fast his chair clattered back away from him. He reached deft fingers below the bed and the rail dropped a moment later, letting him perch on the edge of the bed and pull her into his arms. She went willingly, burying her face against his chest and clinging to him as she began to shake with renewed sobs. 

"Shhh…" he murmured again, tucking her head under his chin and settling one hand against her hair, holding her to him, and his other arm circled around her shoulders. "I got you. It's alright." 

She pulled herself tighter against his side, her arms wrapping firmly around his middle. Her body seemed to sing in relief that she had finally accepted his comfort. His warmth permeated her skin, spreading through her, giving her strength. She focused on his words as she began to catch her breath. 

"I'll keep you safe, little bird." He was whispering now. "We'll figure this out. Whatever you need, I'll make sure it happens. I'll find you a lawyer, I'll take care of everything. Don't worry, little bird, I've got you." 

She stiffened. 

No. Not again. 

"Little bird?" He questioned, looking down at her. 

"No." She said it out loud this time, pushing away from his chest and swiping at her tears with the heels of her palms. "No. You have to go." 

"What…?" He pulled away slightly but didn't rise, still gazing at her in confusion. 

She shook her head violently. "I'm not a whore." She whispered with a glare. "I won't trade sex for protection. Get out." 

She pushed herself farther away, trying to distance herself on the tiny hospital bed. He rose his feet, hands still extended like he wanted to touch her. 

"Little bird, don't-" 

"I'm not a whore." She repeated. "I don't need your help. Get out." 

"Mama!" 

The door burst open then and Lyanna ran in. 

"Lyanna!" Sansa leaned forward and scooped her daughter off the floor, wrapping her in her arms. 

Arya and Jon followed a moment later, each glancing curiously at Sandor. 

"Did you have fun with Auntie Arya, sweetling?" Sansa asked, holding her daughter away from her and pushing her dark curls back. 

"Yes mama! Yarya came to school and we ate nuggets!" Lyanna grinned. 

Sansa laughed, then wiped under her eyes to make sure her tears were gone. 

"Mama sad?" Lyanna frowned, reaching out to touch her cheek. 

"No, darling. I'm just happy to see you." Sansa kissed her daughters forehead and pulled her back into a hug. 

"So where's your hot doctor?" Arya asked, perching on the end of the bed. 

"Arya..." Jon said softly, placing a hand on Arya's shoulder. 

She ignored him. "He works here, doesn't he? Shouldn't he be here fussing over you?" 

Sansa glanced from Arya to Sandor. Sandor's good cheek had colored, and he mumbled something before ducking out of the room. 

"I think that was him." Jon said softly, giving Arya a pointed look. 

"Oh!" Arya turned around, craning her neck to try to get a look at him. "Why did he leave? What's happened?" 

"It's nothing." Sansa forced herself to smile at her sister. "It's over."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _awkward finger guns_ yeeeeah. I'd say I'm sorry but we all know that's a fib. The good news though is that I'm really excited to write the next few chapters, so the next few updates should be fairly quick. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! That has been my favorite chapter to write so far, and it was honestly the first idea that I had for this story. I'm really excited to hear how it was received!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STOP RIGHT THERE. THIS CHAPTER IS HEAVY
> 
> Please read the tags again, and there is a trigger warning in the end notes if anyone would like to scroll down and check that before proceeding. 
> 
> If anyone would like to skip this chapter, I will put a recap at the beginning of the next chapter.

Sansa was impatient. She'd been perched on the edge of her hospital bed, waiting for discharge papers, for almost two hours. She was wearing the same outfit from yesterday, with her emergency shoes, and was anxious to get home. 

Well, anxious to get to Arya's. She and Lyanna would be staying with her sister and Gendry for the foreseeable future, while Sansa made a plan to deal with Ramsay. She still thought her best option was to move again, but Arya made her promise to look into all possibilities before she left. 

She glanced at the clock again. Jon was with Arya at her house right now, waiting for her. She'd insisted that she could see herself home from the hospital; she needed time to think. 

She had enough money in her savings for another move, as long as she could find a place to live right away. Arya had insisted to her last night that no judge in their right mind would award custody to Ramsay, that she shouldn't worry about that possibility, and spend her savings on the best lawyer she could find. Sansa wasn't convinced. Ramsay had a point; she was a stripper, and she was technically a whore, even though she would've slept with Sandor even if he hadn't paid for her company. If Ramsay had any proof of her profession, it would turn the tables in his favor. 

A nurse came in, breaking Sansa's reverie. The nurse smiled and apologized for the long wait, then walked her through her discharge instructions. Sansa smiled politely and nodded along, resisting the temptation to snatch the papers from the girl and snap that this wasn't her first sprained ankle. The girl finally finished, handed Sansa a pair of crutches, and left. 

Sansa held both crutches under one arm and began the long, hobbling journey out to her car. Last night she'd managed to avoid coming clean about dancing, but she'd decided since that she needed to tell them; they couldn't very well help her without all the information, and they'd find out anyways if she had to go to court against Ramsay. 

Sansa had reached the emergency room, and began the trek towards the exit, glancing around furtively for Sandor. She'd overreacted yesterday, throwing him and his offer of help out of her room. But she still wasn't going to accept his help, and she didn't want to see him. 

She had almost reached the waiting room when she sensed him behind her. Sighing, she stopped and turned to face him. He stopped in front of her with one hand raised, like he'd been about to touch her shoulder. 

"Hi." He said after a moment, dropping his hand. 

"Hello." She replied softly. 

They stared at each other for a long minute. He looked nervous and conflicted, and for a moment Sansa felt guilty.

"Can I help you to your car?" He asked finally. 

"I can manage." Her reply came out harsher than she intended, so she attempted to smile. 

"Ah. Okay. Can we talk? Not now, of course, but…" he trailed off and shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip. 

She hesitated. His nerves were so endearing to her, they always had been. It had given her confidence way back on that first night at Lost Ones. His uncertainty had given her the push she needed to take control of the situation. She almost shivered at the memory of his rough hands ghosting feather-light across her skin. 

"I… um…" she looked down, chewing the inside of her cheek. "I have a lot I need to figure out." She met his gaze again. "And until I do, there's nothing for us to talk about. There can't _be_ anything for us to talk about." 

His brow furrowed. "Because of what he said about your… second job?" He asked carefully. 

"Yes." Sansa shifted her weight to her sprained ankle and winced, immediately shifting back. "I can't give him any more than he already has." 

"He doesn't have shit." Sandor shook his head and crossed his arms. "You haven't done anything illegal, little bird." 

"It's frowned upon…" Sansa mumbled, looking down at her feet. "And besides, the night at the hotel-" 

He took a step closer, his hands beginning to reach for her waist before he remembered himself and dropped them back to his sides. 

"No one knows what happened in that hotel besides you and me." He said softly. "He doesn't have shit." 

Sansa's eyes filled with tears and she quickly averted her gaze and turned her body slightly away from him, trying to discreetly brush them away. 

"I have to go." Her voice cracked as she whispered. 

He looked crestfallen. 

She turned and began to walk away, gritting her teeth as her good leg began to cramp from holding up her weight. She stopped after just a few steps, throwing one arm out to brace herself on the counter at the nurses station. A moment later she felt his feather light touch on her back, and she instinctively leaned some of her weight on him. 

"May I help you to your car?" He rasped quietly. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, then finally nodded. 

"Thank you." She said softly, not meeting his gaze. 

He snaked his arm around her waist and lifted her almost off the ground, pulling her tightly into his side as he did. His other hand took her crutches and handbag, leaving her hands free to cling to his arm. He practically carried her out the front doors of the hospital, hesitating so she could point him in the right direction. 

Her body relaxed slightly, and she let herself enjoy the warm feeling of his arm around her, and the hard muscle of his shoulder and bicep under her hands. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she let herself breathe in his scent; sandalwood, pine, and leather. 

"Here you are…" he mumbled, lowering her back onto the ground once they reached her car. He kept his arm around her for a moment while she steadied herself. 

She looked up into his eyes, her hands resting against his chest seemingly of their own accord. She pulled her hands away quickly, blushing, but he caught one and curled his hand around it, cradling it against his chest as his other hand moved to the small of her back to pull her slightly closer. She gasped softly, her other hand landing on his forearm. 

They stood there like that for several moments, just gazing into each other's eyes. She could see the turmoil and conflict rolling behind his eyes, and wondered briefly what he saw in hers. 

A car honked on the next aisle over and they both jumped. Sansa looked away and pulled back, and Sandor immediately released his hold on her and retreated a few steps. 

"I'll help you." He said as she reached for the door handle. "Whatever you need, no strings attached." 

She nodded stiffly to acknowledge she'd heard him, but did not look at him again as she sank into her car and left the hospital. She took deep, steadying breaths to keep her tears at bay, willing herself not to fall apart. She had too much else to worry about, she couldn't think about Sandor right now. She needed to focus on keeping Lyanna away from Ramsay. 

Her cell phone rang and broke her train of thought. She sniffled as she dug in her back without looking, glancing at the caller ID when she found it. 

"Arya." She greeted. 

"Where in all the seven fucking hells are you?" Her sister demanded in a harsh whisper. 

"I got held up at the hospital." Sansa explained, guilt washing over her. "I'm sorry, I should've let you know." 

"You're coming straight here right?" Arya demanded. 

Sansa hesitated. 

"Sans…" Arya said warningly, and Sansa hears Jon's muffled voice asking a question. 

"I just need to go by my apartment." Sansa said, trying to sound casual. "I need to pack a bag, it'll only take a few minutes." 

"No." Jon's voice came through the speaker now and Sansa grimaced. "It's not safe for you to go by yourself. Come straight here, I'll take you to get your things." 

"That's ridiculous Jon, my place is on the way. My building is secure, he can't get in the front door without a key." Sansa explained. 

"I don't fucking care, do not go there alone!" Arya spoke again, echoing slightly, making Sansa suspect she was on speakerphone. 

"Meet me there then." Sansa snapped, exasperated. 

"Wait for me, don't go in without-"

Sansa cut Jon off by hanging up and tossing her phone back onto the passenger seat. She was more nervous about Ramsay than they were, but he seemed to want Lyanna, not Sansa. If he happened to be watching the building, he'd see that she did not have Lyanna with her and move on. Besides, she wasn't a child. She didn't need their permission to go to her own apartment. 

Sansa grimaced again and glanced in her rearview mirror. She had to make sure she wasn't being followed. 

She reached her apartment building and circled the lot three times, looking for Ramsay. Satisfied that he wasn't there, she parked and hurried inside. She stopped in the leasing office and asked the girls there if anyone had been there looking for her. They said no, and Sansa managed to dodge their probing questions. 

She hesitated when she reached her door, then quickly pushed away her nerves and unlocked it. She leaned back against the cool wood after she pushed the door shut. She took a steadying breath, then pushed away and hurried to her room, shaking her head to rid it of thoughts of Ramsay. 

She started throwing clothes into an overnight bag, barely registering what she was selecting. After a couple of minutes, she moved to the bathroom, tossing her toiletries on top of her clothes. She dropped the bag onto the couch and paused, taking a deep breath. She placed one hand on the back of the couch to balance and lifted her foot off the ground, grimacing as she flexed her ankle. 

Just as she set her foot back on the ground, weight slammed into her back, knocking her forward onto the couch. She gasped, hand flying out to catch herself. Before she could grab the back of the couch, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. Another hand wrapped in her hair, forcing her neck to arch back. 

"Where is my daughter, Sansa?" 

"Let me go, Ramsay." She whispered. 

He pressed closer to her back, forcing his knee between her thighs. She stiffened, clenching her legs so he couldn't press up any higher. 

"Where is she?" 

"I thought you knew everything." She sneered. 

He responded with a sharp pull on her hair, making her whimper. He pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled deeply. Sansa repressed a shudder, tugging uselessly against his grip on her arm. 

"Take me to her." Ramsay instructed softly. 

"No." 

"You will." He assured her, releasing her hair to stroke his knuckle down her cheek. 

She lifted her free hand to smack him away from her face, and he took the opportunity to grab that wrist as well, twisting that arm behind her and wrapping both of her wrists in one hand. She squirmed against him, trying to break his hold, and he pressed tighter against her. Tears sprang to her eyes as he continued stroking her cheek. 

"I do wish you wouldn't fight." He tutted softly, then scraped his teeth down the shell of her ear as he dropped his hand to her thigh, tracing his thumb along the hem of her skirt. "If you think you can beat me, you haven't been paying attention." 

His fingers clenched on the edge of her skirt and jerked it upwards. 

"No!" Sansa cried, twisting violently this way and that, trying to break his hold as he hiked her skirt up around her waist. 

"Tell me where she is." Ramsay's voice had hardened as he traced the curve of her bottom. 

Sansa hung her head and began to sob, still trying hopelessly to free herself from his grasp. He sighed dramatically, then hooked his thumb into the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down. 

"Tell me." 

"No." Her voice shook. 

Ramsay sighed again, then pushed her forward until she was bent over the back of the couch, holding her down with the hand that pinned her wrists. He brought his other hand between her legs and forced his fingers between her dry lower lips, chuckling softly. 

"Last chance, wife. This will hurt if you don't." 

She could hear the smile in his voice. 

"Go to hell." She spat with as much venom as she could muster. 

"You never learn, do you, stupid girl?" He chuckled again, then forced his cock into her all at once. 

She cried out as the pain tore through her, and fresh tears began to course down her cheeks. Ramsay released a low moan as he bottomed out in her. He leaned down over her and nipped at her ear. 

"It's up to you when this stops. Just tell me where my daughter is." 

Sansa clenched her jaw as Ramsay rose and began thrusting into her. The pain was excruciating, but she was determined not to make another sound even as she continued to cry.

She had no idea how long it had been when her tears stopped, or when her fists unclenched. She had gone limp, her mind was blank, and eyes unfocused when Ramsay's hips stuttered against her and he moaned, releasing into her. She didn't move when he stepped away, nor when she heard his zipper. He grabbed her arm and pulled her upright, catching her chin and forcing her to meet his gaze. His other hand dropped to her belly, and he smirked. 

"Might be we get another one, wife." His eyes glinted as he grinned at her, then he leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "I'll see you soon." He promised softly. 

He released her and disappeared. She flinched when she heard the door slam, and sank to the ground, laying on her side with her back against the couch and her cheek resting against the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw rape
> 
> Note updated 7/7: I've received quite a bit of backlash over this chapter, and the way I chose to include the trigger warning, so I'm just gonna explain a little bit here. 
> 
> I chose to put the trigger warning at the end to maintain suspense for the readers that didn't need it. That's the format I prefer when I'm reading, so I have the option to get more information first if I feel I need it, or to just go along for the ride. 
> 
> Way back at the end of Chapter 8, I updated the tags and put in my a/n that if anyone would like me to include a trigger warning, let me know and I will include it. No one requested a warning, which is why I originally posted this chapter with no warnings in the notes at all. I reminded readers in the notes of a couple chapters leading up to this to check the tags, and said that things would be getting heavy soon and to keep the tags in mind. Within a couple hours of publishing this chapter, someone commented and let me know that they would've liked a TW, and I updated my notes to include it right away. I stand by my decision to put the warning at the end, with the option at the beginning to scroll down and check the warning before reading. 
> 
> That being said, to any readers that were upset/triggered/scandalized/etc by the content of this chapter, I am truly sorry. To those who have decided not read further, thanks for coming along this far!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to @Kitsfics for proofreading! 
> 
> Last chapter recap: Sansa is discharged from the hospital and has an awkward encounter with Sandor. He says he wants to sit down and have a conversation, she says there's nothing to talk about. He helps her to her car, and they have a ~moment~ looking into each others eyes (barf.) He says his offer to help her is no-strings-attached. Jon and Arya call Sansa while she drives, who insists on going to her apartment alone to pack a bag. Ramsay ambushes and sexually assaults Sansa, telling her he'll stop when she agrees to take him to Lyanna.

Chapter Nineteen

She should've waited. 

How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? It could've been days, for all she knew, except that the sun hadn't set. 

Or had it? She wasn't really paying attention. 

She blinked slowly, looking around the room. She needed to get up. Needed to lock the door. Needed to get her clothes pulled back into place, before Jon or Arya got here. If they were even still coming. They probably weren't, after she hung up on them. 

She should've waited. 

What in all the seven hells is that stain in the corner? Under the table, it was deep red. Was it wine? Or maybe Lyanna's grape juice? Those were almost the same thing, now she was thinking about it. Grape juice and wine. Just different stages of production. 

Heavy footsteps in the hall. Too heavy to be Arya's. Jon? Or maybe Ramsay coming back. No. No he wouldn't come back. Not yet. Heavy footsteps. Closer and closer. No! Not yet. She didn't want him to see her like this. Heavy footsteps walked right past her door. She released a long breath. It wasn't Jon. 

She should've waited. 

How long has it been now? Another hour? Maybe more? Or maybe still just minutes. She couldn't see her clock from down here, nor could she sit up. Oh well. They'd find her eventually. Wouldn't they? 

Would salt and club soda lift that stain? Once upon a time she'd memorized a chart of what to use to get various stains out, but now she couldn't remember. Maybe baking soda and dish soap? Fuck, she should know this.

Why wasn't he here yet? Had they forgotten about her? No. Of course they didn't. She told them she could handle this. She told them she was fine. Gods, how could she be so wrong? She knew Ramsay better than anyone, why hadn't she realized? Of course he would be here waiting for her. Of course he'd count on her insisting she go alone. He was right about her. She really was just a stupid girl. A stupid whore. Ramsay was right about her. 

Why didn't she wait? 

Footsteps again, lighter than the last. This was Jon, she was almost certain. She was filled with relief and dread. He'd come for her, finally, but what would he say when he saw her like this? 

Remind her she's stupid, probably. Admonish and chastise and lecture for not listening. She never listened to him, not when they were children, not when she left for Kings Landing, not even when she'd run to him after she left Ramsay; he'd told her to stay longer at the wall, to let him look after her longer. But no, she was a stupid girl who thought she could take care of herself, and she left too soon. He'd admonish and chastise and lecture, and he'd be right. She was a stupid girl.

She should've listened. She should've waited. 

The door opened. 

"Sansa? San? Oh shit." 

Rough hands on her face. 

"Fucking hells. Sansa? Can you hear me?" 

She blinked. Jon's face came into focus. 

"Sansa? Fuck. Shit!" 

Hands disappeared and something touched her hip. A blanket. She was still bare from the waist down. 

"San? Look at me, San. Can you hear me?" 

He clicked his fingers next to her ear and she tried to bat at his hand, tried to shoot a glare at her cousin. 

"You're alright now, San, I got you." Jon tugged at her skirt beneath the blanket, pulling it back down to cover her legs. He kept his eyes averted, and then helped her into a sitting position. He kept one hand on her shoulder as he pulled out his phone, tapped a couple buttons and then lifted it to his ear, cradling it against his shoulder. "Arya? You were right, he came for her… she's alive, but he's hurt her. Bad. I'm taking her to the hospital." He paused. "Yeah, I uh… I think he did." 

He was quiet for a long moment, then he nodded to himself and ended the call without another word. He looked down to put the phone back in his pocket, and when he looked at her face again his eyes had hardened and rage reddened his face. 

"Come on, Sansa. I'm taking you to the hospital." He said softly, taking hold of her elbows. 

She tried to object but he already had her on her feet. He glanced down to make sure she was properly covered, and his face contorted his fury when he saw her underwear around her knees. He cursed softly and looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. She tried to move to pull them back on, but her hands wouldn't listen. Jon took a deep breath, then turned back to her with resolve. 

"I'm sorry, San." He murmured, looking determinedly over her shoulder as he pulled her undergarment back into place. "He won't hurt you again. I've got you." 

She couldn't see the stain now that she was on her feet. That's why she hadn't seen it before. 

He tugged her skirt back down into place and stepped away from her. He hesitated a moment, then stooped slightly to lift her into his arms, one arm around her back and the other under her knees. He lifted her easily and made for the door, using his foot to kick it open. He didn't stop to close it behind them as they left. She vaguely registered the voice of an alarmed neighbor as Jon carried her outside. He rebuffed them, and buckled her into the passenger seat of his charcoal grey crossover SUV. 

"You're alright, Sansa." He repeated softly as he nudged her legs further into the car and shut her door. 

She slumped against the door, resting her temple against the foggy glass. She watched Jon survey their surroundings carefully as he came around to the drivers side, scanning for… something. Sansa didn't know what he expected to see. Ramsay would be far from here right now, he wouldn't stay to find out who found the broken pieces he'd left behind. At least not personally. 

She closed her eyes as Jon got in the driver's seat. Her cousin looked angrier than she'd ever seen him, and she didn't want to think about that now. She just wanted to sleep. 

She should've waited. 

It felt like mere seconds when the car came to an abrupt halt. Jon put the car in park, and Sansa opened her eyes, blinking around. They were back at the hospital. Jon opened her door and reached across her, unbuckling the seatbelts. 

"No hospital." She tried to tell him, but he didn't listen. 

"Sir? Sir you can't park there. Here's a wheelchair, I'll take her in." An unfamiliar voice called. 

Jon ignored them and lifted Sansa into his arms, walking right past the owner of the voice as they objected. 

"Sir you can't leave your vehicle here!" 

"Then tow it." He barked over his shoulder as he continued into the emergency room. 

The room fell eerily quiet when they entered, then there was a burst of activity. Sansa flinched closer to Jon's chest, tightening her fingers in his lapel. 

"It's alright." He murmured to her as he walked. "I'm not leaving." 

A moment later he came to a stop and lowered her onto a gurney. 

"What happened, hun?" A maternal voice asked gently as a cool stethoscope was pressed to her chest.

"I think she's been sexually assaulted." Jon told the nurse. 

"She can speak for herself." The nurse told Jon firmly. 

"She hasn't moved, hasn't said a word since I found her." Jon growled at the woman. "She's in shock." 

"Hun? Hun can you tell me your name?" The nurse leaned over her again. "It's okay hun, just try and say your name for me." 

She tried to speak. She tried to swat the nurses hands away. She tried to roll away from the nurses frown, toward Jon. But she didn't move.

"Can you hear me?" The nurse's brow furrowed in concern, then she sighed. "What's her name, hun? I'll get a chart started." She turned to Jon. 

Sansa wanted to huff in frustration as Jon gave the nurse her name and date of birth, and explained that she'd just been discharged. 

The nurse left, and Jon pulled a chair to the side of her bed, sat down, and took her hand. 

"Tell me what happened, San." He asked softly. 

Sansa blinked, and turned to face him. 

"Hydrogen peroxide and dish soap." She mumbled. 

Jon's brows knitted. "What?" 

"For the stain." She explained. "Peroxide and dish soap." 

"Sansa, what the hell are you talking about? What stain?" 

"In the corner." She whispered, closing her eyes. 

Jon was silent for a moment. 

"Sansa… what did Ramsay do?"

She flinched, and rolled to her side, away from Jon. 

"San, please. Tell me what he did, did he… did…" 

Jon trailed off, but was saved by the nurse returning. He rose to his feet as she came in, flicking through her chart on a tablet. Sansa didn't listen as Jon answered the nurse's questions. Not until they mentioned the police. 

"No!" Sansa shouted, sitting up. 

Jon and the nurse both jumped. 

"No." She repeated, swinging her legs off the bed. 

"San, stop." Jon caught her shoulders to keep her seated. "It's okay, they just need to ask a few questions." 

"No." She shook her head frantically. "No. I need to go. I need Lyanna. Jon, I need to leave. I need to go." 

"Hun if you've been assaulted, there's some things we need to do." The nurse said gently. 

"I'm not doing a rape kit." Sansa shook her head, then looked pleadingly at her cousin. "Jon, please. Please, I need to get my daughter and leave. I have to get her away from him." 

"Be calm, San." Jon took her hands. "You don't have to go anywhere. Just talk to the police, get the kit done, and we'll figure out the rest later." 

Sansa began to cry. 

"We can't do a rape kit without her consent…" the nurse said softly, and Jon glared at her. 

"I do not consent." Sansa said, as firmly as she could with tears running down her face. 

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose again, squeezing his eyes shut. He took a few deep breaths, then motioned to the nurse. 

"May I speak to you outside?" He asked. 

The nurse nodded and they stepped out of the room, pulling the door almost shut behind them. 

"What are our options?" She heard Jon ask. 

"I'll call for a social worker." The nurse told him. "But I can't hold her here if she refuses treatment." 

"What needs to be done besides the rape kit?" 

"Are you sure she was raped?" The nurse lowered her voice.

"I found her on the floor with her skirt up around her waist, and her underwear around her knees. I'm sure." 

Sansa laid back down, curled up on her side with her back to the door, and shut her eyes. She purposely stopped listening to them. She couldn't take it. 

She should've fucking waited. 

She heard the door open and looked over her shoulder. Jon was back, and over his shoulder she saw Dr. Dondarrion taking the tablet from the nurse and frowning down at it. Jon closed the door behind him and walked around the bed, then sank back into his vacated chair. He took her hands and looked at her steadily. 

"The nurse is calling for someone to talk to you." He said softly. "You don't have to tell them what happened, you just have to listen. Okay?" 

"No." 

"San, please." 

"No." 

"I'll have Arya bring Lyanna," he offered, "but you have to talk to the social worker." 

She thought for a moment, staring at Jon. 

"Promise I don't have to let them exam me." She whispered. 

"I promise." He said at once. 

She hesitated another moment, then nodded. Jon sighed in relief and squeezed her hands, then stood. He kissed her forehead, then slipped from the room. Sansa glanced over her shoulder to the door. Jon hadn't pulled the curtain, and she could see into the hall. 

Tormund had joined Dr. Dondarrion and the nurse, and just as she looked they each snuck a furtive glance at her. She looked away quickly and turned back over, settling into the bed. Everyone she knew here would know what had happened now. 

She laid there staring at the wall, she didn't know how long, before the door slid open again. She assumed it was Jon, and didn't turn over to look until someone cleared their throat softly. 

It was an older, gentle looking man with an easy smile. 

"Hello, Sansa." He greeted her warmly. "I'm Elder Ray, do you mind if I come in and speak with you for a few moments?" 

She nodded hesitantly, and he smiled again, closing the door behind him before taking a seat. Sansa sat up a little in the bed, looking at him nervously. The man didn't hold a tablet or any kind of paper charts, just a few pamphlets and a small notepad. 

"Well Sansa, would you like to start by telling me what happened?" He asked gently, inclining his head slightly and giving her a probing look that made her feel like she could see her soul. 

She shook her head. 

"That's fine." He assured her, setting one hand on the rail of the bed. "How about this? I'll just ask you a few questions, and you can just nod or shake your head. Does that sound okay?" 

She hesitated, then nodded once. 

"Excellent. Take your time answering if you need to, Sansa. I'm not in a hurry." He gave her another warm smile. "Well then. The gentleman that accompanied you today, he is your cousin?" 

She nodded. 

"And do you feel safe having him here?" 

She nodded again, and he made a mark on his pad. 

"Your cousin would like to call the police here to take a statement. Is that something you'd be comfortable with?" 

She was shaking her head before he even finished. 

"He believes that your ex husband ambushed you in your apartment. Is that correct?" 

She hesitated, then nodded. He made another note. 

"And he believes that your ex may have sexually assaulted you. Is that correct?" He asked gently, inclining his head again. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then nodded. She heard his pen scratch his paper again. He stayed silent until she opened her eyes again. 

"Are you ready to go on?" He asked. 

She took another deep breath, then nodded. He smiled gently again. 

"I understand you've declined a rape kit. That is completely up to you, no one will pressure you one way or another, including your cousin. That being said, as soon as you use the restroom or take a shower, we lose evidence. You don't have to press charges if you get the kit, that's also up to you." 

He paused, and she nodded to show she understood. 

"We would like to start you on a course of antibiotics and emergency contraception, is that okay with you?" 

"Yes." She said softly. 

He made another note, then rose to his feet and walked slowly closer, holding out his pamphlets. 

"Here's some information on crisis resources, and a support group that I run. The group meets at a church across town, so you don't have to worry about any of your coworkers finding out if you don't want." 

She accepted the pamphlets and looked at the cover of each, then back at Elder Ray. 

"I can also offer you resources with keeping your daughter away from your ex, and I can help you make a plan. Is that something you'd like?" 

"I'm leaving." Sansa whispered. "That's the only way to keep her away from him." 

"You have more options than that, Sansa." Elder Ray cocked his head slightly. "I worry that your instinct is to run because that's what you've always had to do. Are you sure that running away will be better for your daughter than fighting your ex and showing him he can't control and intimidate you?" 

Sansa looked away and bit her lip. Who did this guy think he was? He didn't know her, and he certainly didn't know what would be best for Lyanna. 

As if on queue, the door opened and Lyanna bounded in. Arya hovered in the doorway for a moment, then stepped out of sight. 

"Mama! Up!" Lyanna held her arms out to Sansa, who leaned over and lifted her onto the bed, pulling her daughter close to her chest. 

"Hello, sweetling!" Sansa cooed, stroking Lyanna's hair. 

"I'll give you some privacy…" Elder Ray said softly, then left. 

She heard soft voices in the hallway but tuned them out in favor of listening to Lyanna babble. That is, until the deep, gravelly voice of Sandor cut through the hushed murmurs. An involuntary chill went down her spine. And then she was angry. 

Tears sprang to her eyes again, this time from anger and shame; now that Sandor knew, there really was no going back for them. He'd never look at her the same again. He'd look at her the way Jon did. Like she was damaged. Broken. Stupid. Weak. 

"Why mama cry?" Lyanna put her tiny hands on Sansa's face and pouted adorably. 

Sansa forced a smile on her face, and tucked back a strand of her daughter's hair. 

"It's nothing, darling. Are you ready to go home?" 

Lyanna flashed a winning smile and threw her arms around Sansa's neck. Sansa drew her daughter close again, squeezing her almost too hard. This was her anchor. Her reason to wake up every morning. Her strength to keep placing one foot in front of the other. 

Sansa swung her legs off the bed and stood, shifting her hold on Lyanna as she did. She glanced around for her purse, then realized she didn't have it. She sighed heavily. Oh well. She'd figure out something. She went swiftly to the door and slid it open, with more force than necessary, and stepped into the hallway. 

Jon, Arya, Sandor, Tormund, Dr. Dondarrion, Margaery, Ygritte, and the nurse all stood in the hall, blinking at her with wide eyes. Sansa's eyes travelled over each of them, and back again, gauging her chances with each. Then she settled on Margaery. 

"I need a ride." She said, holding eye contact with her friend.

"Then let's go." Margaery said at once, moving forward and linking her arm through Sansa's. 

She gave her friend a grateful smile as they walked away from the little group, purposely avoiding Jon and Arya's gaze. 

"Mama, down!" Lyanna flung herself to the side, reaching for the floor. "I can walk, mama! Down!" 

Sansa couldn't help but smile broadly at her sassy, fierce, independent little girl as she lowered her to the ground and took her hand.

"Hand please." Lyanna reached her other hand towards Margaery, who chuckled and accepted. 

Lyanna skipped between Sansa and Margaery, humming happily. Sansa smiled down at her daughter, then raised her eyes to Margaery. The brunette met her gaze and gave a half-smile.

Sansa knew what she was. She was a stupid, weak little girl, but she could be strong for Lyanna. She would be strong for Lyanna. She had to. 

There was no other choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those of you who stuck around for another chapter! I do want to take a moment to sincerely apologize to any readers who were upset or triggered by the last chapter. Rape is obviously a shocking and upsetting topic, and I definitely should've been clearer in my note at the beginning. That's on me.
> 
> The next few chapters are going to be heavy on the angst and recovery, so please make sure you're in a good headspace before reading. 
> 
> Edited to add: I am a rape survivor. One of the reasons I decided to write this story was to examine my own assault and recovery. Part of this story is similar to what I did, and part what I wish I had. You're all correct: Sansa is not handling this well. She's not making the smartest choices. Neither did I. How different would my recovery have been if I accepted the help and support that was offered? Right now Sansa is panicking. She's afraid. She won't be that way forever. She's in fight or flight mode, and she's fleeing.


	20. Chapter 20

Margaery was quiet as they drove. Sansa might’ve been concerned with her friends' uncharacteristic silence if she wasn’t so preoccupied. As it was, Sansa sat in the backseat with Lyanna, who was still chatting excitedly about her overnight with Arya and Gendry. 

“And Gendy made pancakes! Pancakes, mama!” Lyanna’s eyes sparkled. 

“With extra syrup?” Sansa smiled softly. 

“Syrup!” Lyanna squealed. 

Margaery smiled over her shoulder at the pair, then changed lanes. They’d been driving for a solid ten minutes, and only then did Sansa realize she had never given Margaery a destination. 

“Marg, where are we going?” Sansa asked, leaning forward. 

Her friend made eye contact in the rearview mirror as she answered. “Somewhere safe.” 

Sansa frowned but didn’t ask followup questions so as not to catch Lyanna’s attention that something was amiss. She settled back against her seat, lips pursed. Margaery glanced at her again, then turned her attention back to the road. 

After another 15 minutes, Sansa was beginning to think that Margaery was stalling. She didn’t know where they might be going, but she was pretty sure they were aimlessly driving. She was about to ask again when Margaery pulled into a hotel parking lot. 

“Margaery?” Sansa asked, leaning forward again. 

“Hush, darling.” Margaery waved a dismissive hand. 

Sansa bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at her friend. A few moments later they were parked, and Margaery got out of the car. Sansa hesitated, then followed. Margaery was typing on her phone, but locked it and dropped it into her purse as Sansa stood in front of her, holding Lyanna’s hand. 

“Your sister and cousin are already here,” Margaery informed her in a gentle voice, and Sansa narrowed her eyes. “They wanted to corner you, but I know that won’t go over well. They just want to help you make a plan, and if you want to leave, I’ll take you back to my apartment.” 

Sansa bit her lip and turned away slightly, trying to reign in her feelings. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, she just wanted to leave, to get as far away as possible from Ramsay as she could. After a few moments, she turned back to her friend and nodded once. 

“Fine.” She said curtly. “Let’s get this over with.” 

Margaery flashed one of her winning smiles, then dropped her gaze to Lyanna. 

“Hand?” She extended her hand to the girl, who happily accepted, and the trio walked into the hotel lobby. 

Margaery led them to the elevator and pushed the button for level 4, humming to herself as the elevator ascended. The doors opened and Margaery gave Sansa a reassuring smile before leading her down the hall. She stopped in front of the door to room 413 and knocked twice. A moment later, Arya opened the door and beckoned them inside. 

Margaery went in first, followed by Lyanna. Sansa hesitated, looking at her little sister. They held eye contact for a long moment, even as Lyanna shouted “GENDY” and Gendry made a dramatic noise like the three year olds impact could’ve knocked him off his feet. 

“It’s okay, Sansa.” Arya said softly. “Just come in.” 

Sansa sighed, then squared her shoulders and entered the room. It was one of the nicest rooms she’d ever been in, on par with the one Sandor had brought her to. There was a large, comfortable looking couch against the wall, opposite a huge TV, and armchairs on either side. The curtains were open, flooding the room in natural light. Sansa took in her surroundings, noting only that there was not a bed. 

“Arya,” Sansa caught her sister’s wrist as she shut the door, “I can’t afford to stay somewhere like this.” 

Arya waved a dismissive hand. “It’s taken care of.” 

“How?” Sansa demanded, brows furrowed. 

“We’ll talk about that in a few minutes.” Jon interjected from across the room, and Sansa frowned at her cousin. 

Arya cleared her throat. “Babe, I think it’s time for Lyanna’s nap?” She said pointedly to Gendry, who was on the floor now with Lyanna. 

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” Gendry scrambled to his feet and scooped up Lyanna, who squealed in delight as Gendry lifted her over his head. 

Sansa watched as Gendry carried her daughter across the room, then opened a door she’d assumed was a closet, revealing a bedroom. 

“Arya…” Sansa said softly. “This place must’ve cost a fortune!” 

“It’s taken care of.” Arya said, with an air of finality. “Come sit.” 

Sansa hesitated another moment by the door, then sighed and stepped forward, perching on the edge of one of the arm chairs. Jon sat in the other, and Arya and Margaery sat on the couch. Sansa fidgeted uncomfortably, looking down at her hands, as she waited for someone to speak. 

“Sansa…” Jon said after a few moments of awkward silence, “will you tell us what happened?” 

“I’d rather not.” Sansa said, not looking up. 

“Okay.” Jon said. “Will you tell us what your plan is?” 

“I don’t really have one yet…” Sansa admitted. “Maybe I’ll go to Robb, in Volantis.” 

“Don’t leave again, San.” Arya said, scooting forward until she was also perched on the edge of her seat. “You can fight him, and you can win.”

Sansa grimaced at her sister, then looked away. 

“There’s something you’re not telling us.” Jon said softly, leaning back and crossing his ankle over his knee. “Something big. Why do you think you have to run again?” 

“He’d win.” Sansa replied simply, finally making eye contact with her cousin. “He has a case.” 

“What does he have?” Jon asked, frowning. 

Sansa took a deep breath and glanced at Margaery. Her friend’s expression didn’t give anything away, but she nodded once in encouragement. Sansa released the air from her lungs and looked back at her hands. 

“A few months back, I started working at a strip club to supplement my income from the hospital.” She said quietly. 

“Gentleman’s club.” Margaery corrected, and Sansa glanced up to see her friend's soft smile. 

Arya and Jon both looked dumbfounded; Arya’s mouth was actually hanging open in shock. 

“Ramsay has apparently been having me followed and knows all about it.” Sansa kept her eyes on Arya as she spoke. “He also knows that I’ve met up with a regular outside the club a couple of times.” 

“And this regular…” Jon said slowly, and Sansa’s eyes flashed to him. “Did you, uh…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. 

“Yes.” Sansa replied simply. 

Jon and Arya exchanged a glance, and Sansa stayed quiet to let them process. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arya asked after a few moments. 

Sansa’s gut twisted with guilt at the hurt look on her sister’s face. She looked back down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. In hindsight, it seemed almost silly that she hadn’t divulged that information to her little sister, who had proven herself to be far more than trustworthy since Sansa’s return to Wintertown. 

“I don’t know.” Sansa whispered. “I was embarrassed. I didn’t think you’d approve.” 

Arya frowned and leaned back against the couch, averting her eyes from Sansa to gaze out the window. 

“I was struggling,” Sansa said desperately, trying to explain herself. “I know you said you’d help me where you could, you both did. But you were already doing so much, Arya, looking after Lyanna while I worked all the time. I couldn’t ask you for more.” 

“I don’t disapprove.” Arya said after a moment, turning back to Sansa. “But I tell you everything, Sansa. I thought you trusted me.” 

Another wave of guilt hit Sansa, and she looked back down at her lap, feeling a lump rise in her throat. A tense silence followed Arya’s words, and Sansa struggled to hold back tears. Stupid, she was so stupid… 

“I think what matters now,” Margaery said slowly, “is that everyone is on the same page, and we can help you make a plan.” 

“Agreed.” Jon said, shooting Arya a warning look as she opened her mouth. He turned back to Sansa and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. “San, I know you’re afraid.” He gentled his tone. “And that’s okay. Like Uncle Ned used to say, bravery isn’t lack of fear, it’s not letting fear hold you back and dictate your life. You already uprooted once to get away from that bastard, don’t let him drive you from your home again.” 

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears at Jon’s words. He might’ve been her cousin, but he was more like her late father than any of her brothers. She could practically feel her father in the room with them as Jon’s words sank in. 

“I have to get Lyanna away.” Sansa croaked, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands. 

“I agree.” Jon said, which made Sansa’s head snap up. “I think we should have Arya and Gendry take Lyanna to Robb, while you stay here and fight.” 

Sansa’s mouth went dry. She glanced at her sister for backup, but Arya didn’t seem surprised in the least by Jon’s suggestion. 

“You think I should send my daughter away?” Sansa asked incredulously. 

“Just for a couple of weeks.” Jon cocked his head slightly. “San, if you get the rape kit and make a police report, we can get a protection order against Ramsay. I can’t promise he’ll get convicted, but that will help your custody case.” 

“No!” Sansa said at once. “No, Jon! I’m not doing to rape kit and I’m not talking to the police! Ramsay has his father's money at his back, Roose is too powerful! There’s no way that would work!” 

“Just try, San.” Jon implored, his eyebrows raising. “You don’t have to run again, you can beat him, just try-” 

“No!” Sansa shouted, leaping to her feet. “You don’t understand, Jon! I can’t beat him! I can’t! If I don’t leave, he’s already won!” 

“For the love of-” Arya cursed under her breath, then rose to her feet as well. “God damn it, Sansa! Why are you letting him defeat you like this?” 

Sansa flinched. 

“He’s just a man, he’s not a god!” Arya’s voice grew steadily louder. “You’re a smart woman, Sansa, and you’re strong! Why are you acting like this? Why are you rolling over and letting him win?”

“Arya.” Jon reached for her arm, but Arya swatted him away. 

“No, Jon! This is bloody ridiculous!” Arya said, then rounded back on Sansa, taking a step forward. “You’re better than this, Sansa. You’re strong enough and smart enough to fight him, running away again is the stupidest thing you could do now. Do you want to keep running your whole life? Is that what’s best for Lee, picking up and disappearing every time he catches up to you? Fuck that, Sansa! You’re staying here!” 

Arya drew in a sharp breath at the end of her rant, and Sansa stared at her sister wide-eyed as her words sunk in. They stood facing each other, Arya puffed up and angry, Sansa hurt with tears in her eyes. 

“What Arya means,” Jon said slowly after a long, tense silence, “is that running isn’t your only option.” 

“No.” Sansa took a step back. “What Arya means is that she knows better than I do what’s best for me.” 

“San…” Jon sighed, dropping his head and raking his fingers through his hair. “That’s not what-” 

“It is.” Arya said sternly, crossing her arms. “If you can stand there and look me in the eye and tell me that you think running away from your problems is the smartest thing for you to do, then I do know better than you what’s best.” 

Sansa glared at her sister, and Arya glared right back. 

“Alright…” Jon slowly rose to his feet. “You both need to take a deep breath.” He turned to Arya. “Sit down, Arry. We agreed we wouldn’t do this.” Arya sat back in her seat with a huff, crossing her arms and turning to stare out the window again. “Sansa… We just want to help. Please, sit back down and let’s talk this out.” 

“You think I’m a stupid little girl.” Sansa said, glaring at Arya and ignoring Jon. Arya turned her head to look at Sansa. “You think I can’t do this on my own.” 

“No, Sansa.” Arya countered with a humorless laugh. “I think you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You’re just not acting like it.” 

Sansa stared at her sister for another long moment, then sighed and dropped back into her chair. She crossed her arms and glared at the blank TV, jaw clenched. 

“Sansa,” Jon began slowly, “we’re begging you. Stay and fight. We’re all behind you, you’re not alone in this.” 

Sansa sighed and dropped her head into her hands. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to fucking sleep for a thousand years and wake up in the body of someone entirely different. Someone as strong as Arya thought she could be. 

“Fine.” She said finally. “I’ll fight.” Her voice broke and her eyes filled with tears as she raised her head and looked at Arya. “But you promise me now that you’ll protect my daughter. When Ramsay wins, promise you’ll keep running, for as long as you have to, to keep Lyanna safe from him.” 

Arya turned slowly from the window, anger draining from her face as she stared at Sansa. 

“He will never be in the same room as her again, San.” Arya said, deadly serious. “I promise.” 

Sansa and Arya continued to glare at each other, while Jon and Margaery looked back and forth between them. The two sisters were more different than anyone could be, but they matched each other in stubbornness. 

“Alright then.” Jon said after a few moments. “Now that-” 

“Who paid for the room?” Sansa cut off her cousin, still looking at Arya. 

Arya lifted her chin defiantly. “An anonymous benefactor.” 

“Tell me!” Sansa demanded. “Arya!” 

Arya broke eye contact to exchange a look with Jon, then she sighed and reached for her bag. She searched through it for a moment, then pulled out a credit card and extended it towards Sansa. Sansa looked between her sister's hand and her face for a moment, then stepped forward and took the card. She took a deep breath, then looked down at it. Embossed in the bottom left corner of the card was the name Sandor Clegane. Sansa’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the card. 

“What…?” She raised her eyes to her sister, who looked defiant. Then Jon, who looked uncomfortable. Then Margaery, who looked slightly guilty. Finally she turned back to her sister. “Where did you get this?” 

“He said he wanted to help.” Arya replied. 

“No.” Sansa whispered, dropping back into her chair as her heart began to pound. “I told him no.” 

“San.” Arya sounded like she was fighting with her patience.

“You can’t just accept money on my behalf, Arya!” Sansa snapped, glaring at her sister. “I didn’t want to owe him anything! I don’t want to owe anything to anyone! Not after Uncle Petyr-” She cut herself off and dragged in a deep breath, averting her eyes. 

“After Uncle Petyr what?” Arya asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Sansa grimaced. “I told Sandor I didn’t want his help.” 

“After Uncle Petyr what?” Jon repeated, eyes narrowed. 

Sansa fell silent, staring down at her lap. 

“Sansa!” Jon snapped. 

“He sold me to Ramsay!” Sansa exploded, throwing the card onto the coffee table. “He said I owed him for getting me away from Joff and Kings Landing. That was the price of Roose’s support for Uncle Petyr’s senate seat. That’s why I married Ramsay, Petyr only let me meet him once and before I could figure out a way to say no, we were at a courthouse and it was done.” 

She dropped her head into her hands. Jon and Arya were silent for several long moments, and Sansa could practically feel their silent communication. She took a few deep breaths, then raised her head, trying to discreetly wipe the tears from under her eyes. Her gaze fell on Arya, who was chewing her bottom lip uncomfortably. 

“Give that back to him.” Sansa’s voice cracked. “I can’t accept help like that again. Not now, not with all of this. If I have to face Ramsay in court and he can prove that I’m not providing for myself, he wins.” 

“It’s not like that, San.” Arya said softly. “He loves you.” 

Sansa inhaled sharply. “What did you say?” 

“He loves you.” Arya repeated, looking confused. “That’s your hot doctor, isn’t he? I could tell from the way he talked about you.” 

Sansa leaned back in her chair, dumbfounded. “You spoke to him?” 

“Yes.” Arya said slowly. “When I brought Lyanna to the hospital. He said he’d pay for everything you and Lyanna need to be safe.” 

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears. 

“San, you don’t have to do this all yourself anymore.” Arya crossed the room and knelt in front of her, taking her hand. “Accept the help that’s being offered to you. You can clean out this Sandor guy, take every copper he has, and he can’t do a damn thing to you. We’ll make sure of that.” 

Hot, fat tears spilled down Sansa’s cheeks and she squeezed her sister's hand. 

“Okay.” She whispered finally, wiping her eyes again. 

“Okay?” Arya repeated, and Sansa nodded. 

Arya looked over her shoulder at Jon, and he took a step closer, sitting on the coffee table in front of Sansa and taking her other hand. 

“Sansa, the first thing you need to do is go back to the hospital and get the rape kit done. I know you don’t want to,” he raised his voice slightly as she opened her mouth to object, “but we need the evidence. Pressing charges against him for attacking you, that’s the fastest way to block his legal access to Lyanna.”

More tears spilled down Sansa’s cheeks, but she nodded. Jon and Arya both sighed in relief. 

“Gendry and I will leave tonight, with Lyanna. We’ll drive to The Twins, and fly to Volantis from there.” Arya said. 

“Ramsay will expect us to stay together.” Sansa said thickly, pulling her hands away from Jon and Arya to reach for a tissue. “We need a diversion, set him on the wrong path.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Jon promised, squeezing her shoulder. “For now, let’s get you back to the hospital. We’ll figure out the rest after you get the rape kit.” 

Sansa nodded slowly, then looked at Margaery. 

“I need to speak to Sandor.” She whispered. 

“We’ll get to that.” Jon said, then turned to Margaery. “Call someone to come pick her up and get her back to the hospital. Someone he won’t recognize.” 

“Beric.” Margaery said at once, pulling out her phone. 

“We got your things,” Arya said, crossing the room and producing a duffel bag. 

Jon and Arya selected a pair of yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, and Sansa changed into them with shaking hands. She braided her hair back, then pulled up the hood. 

“I’ll meet you there in a couple hours.” Jon said, handing Sansa his sunglasses. 

Sansa hugged her cousin, then her sister, and set off with Margaery through the hospital. Margaery led her down a long hallway off the lobby to a parking garage, where they found Beric and waiting in the driver’s seat of his truck. 

They were all quiet as they headed back to the hospital. Beric went into the guest parking garage and let them out right next to the elevator. He gave Sansa a kind smile as she thanked him, and Margaery ushered her into the hospital. 

“I need to speak to Sandor.” Sansa said, pulling Margaery to a stop. 

“You can talk to him later, darling.” Margaery said gently, tugging Sansa’s arm. 

“No.” Sansa said, letting Margaery guide her to the elevator, then pushing the button for level 9. “I need to talk to him now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter helps you all feel a little better about Sansa's decision making abilities, and makes it a bit clearer why she reacted so strongly to Sandor offering help a few chapters ago in the emergency room. 
> 
> There was a comment on the last chapter about Sansa's decision to leave the hospital that I wanted to address. So after the assault, she's gone numb and she's in shock. When everyone at the hospital starts talking about rape kits and police, adrenaline snaps her back to reality (ish) and her fight or flight instinct kicks in, making her want to run for the hills. That's what I was going for, anyways. 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter! I look forward to hearing what you all think of this one!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Sansa gets the rape kit and makes another questionable choice in this chapter. You've been warned.

The elevator doors opened. Sansa squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and marched forwards. From the corner of her eye, she saw Ygritte rise to her feet, but she walked past her with single-minded focus. Margaery hurried behind her, trying to convince Sansa to go back to the emergency room first, but Sansa ignored her. 

They rounded the corner into the hall that held Sandor’s office, and Sansa’s step faltered when she saw him. He was standing outside his office, in charcoal colored slacks and a long sleeved indigo button down shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he was wearing his wire framed glasses. He had a folder in one hand, opened and balanced, and was gesturing with his other hand. Tormund stood next to him, nodding along to whatever Sandor was saying. 

Tormund looked up first, and raised an eyebrow in question. Sandor glanced at Tormund, then turned his head to see what had distracted his friend. His eyebrow raised as well when he saw Sansa. He snapped the folder closed and tucked it under his arm as he looked at her. 

“Sansa…” Margaery said softly, tugging her elbow. 

Margaery’s voice brought Sansa’s focus back. She pulled her arm free of Margaery and walked forward, holding Sandor’s gaze. He removed his glasses as she approached, tucking them into the breast pocket of his shirt. Sansa stopped in front of him. 

“Can we talk?” She asked. She was silently impressed with herself for keeping her voice steady. 

“Of course.” He handed the folder to Tormund without looking at him, then stepped back and motioned her into his office. 

She didn’t look at Margaery, who objected softly, as she walked into Sandor’s office. She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned to face him. He stepped into the office behind her and closed the door. He motioned for her to sit down, and he took the chair next to her, rather than the one behind the desk. 

He braced his elbows on his knees and linked his fingers together, watching her curiously. She stared at him for a long moment, before realizing he was waiting for her to speak. 

“You spoke to my sister.” She said finally. 

“Aye, I did.” He nodded once. 

“After I said I didn’t want your help.” 

“Aye.” He agreed again. 

“Why?” She asked. 

He regarded her silently for a long moment, searching her face. 

“You’re stubborn.” He said finally. “You don’t have to use the card, if you don’t want to, or if you don’t need it. But I wanted you to know that the offer stands, and I knew that you wouldn’t want to ask.” 

She looked down for a moment, then back at him. 

“Arya’s already used it.” She said. “Without telling me.” 

“I know.” 

“I’ll pay you back.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t.” 

“What’s in it for you?” Sansa asked, narrowing her eyes. “Are you trying to buy me?” 

“Of course not.” He frowned. He started to reach for her, then quickly dropped his hand, balling it into a fist on his knee. “What’s in it for me is knowing that you’re safe. That’s all.” 

“That’s all?” She repeated. 

“Yes.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment, then he sighed and broke her gaze, raking his fingers through his hair. He turned back to her after a moment, then moved to kneel in front of her. He extended his hands, and she hesitantly placed her hands in his. He gently ran his thumbs across her knuckles as he looked up at her. 

“I care about you, Sansa. Nothing that’s happened these last two days changed that.” He said softly. 

Her eyes closed when he said her name. He’d never said her name before. When she opened her eyes again, a tear slid down her cheek. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She whispered. “I can’t keep on like we were, Sandor. And I might have to move away again.” 

“I know.” He nodded, squeezing her hands. “That’s okay.” 

“We have more to discuss,” she said slowly, her eyes dropping to their hands; hers pale and shaking, his strong and rough. “But I can’t now.” 

“I know.” He repeated. 

She pulled one of her hands from his and cupped his cheek. “Thank you.” She whispered, voice cracking. 

He put his hand over hers and turned his head to press a kiss to her palm, his eyes closing. They sat there like that for a few minutes, then Sandor opened his eyes. 

“What do you need to do now?” He asked softly. 

She hesitated. “Have you ever done a rape kit?” She asked quietly. 

His brow furrowed. “A couple.” 

“Will you do mine?” 

“Little bird…” he sighed, and used his thumb to wipe a tear from her cheek. “I haven’t done a rape kit since I was a resident. I don’t want to risk fucking it up for you.” 

She nodded and lowered her gaze to her lap, dropping her hand from his cheek. 

“But,” He crooked his finger under her chin so she’d look at him, “if you want me to come sit with you, I will.” 

Another wave of tears came as she nodded, and he stood, offering his hands again and helping her to her feet. He began to turn back towards the door, but she caught his elbow and he looked back at her. She stepped closer and leaned up on her toes to brush a kiss against his lips. 

“Thank you.” She whispered again, blinking up at him. 

He took her hand again and kissed her knuckles. 

“Come on, little bird,” he murmured, “let’s get you downstairs.” 

She nodded, and threaded her fingers through his, then let him lead her back into the hallway. Margaery and Tormund were waiting outside, and she saw both of them glance at her and Sandor’s laced fingers and smile slightly. 

Margaery led them back down the hall to the elevator, and pushed the button for the ground floor. Sandor led them through the ER, and flicked the lights on in an exam room. He pulled his hand from Sansa’s as he went to the back corner and opened a cupboard, producing a gown. 

“Here,” he handed it to her. “I’ll go get someone to…” he gestured wordlessly, then ducked out of the room and closed the door behind him. 

“You made up?” Margaery asked immediately, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s more complicated than that.” Sansa sighed, unfolding the gown. “Things won’t be like they were.” 

“Obviously.” Her friend rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

Margaery left the room as well. Sansa slowly pulled off her clothes and replaced them with the scratchy hospital gown. She folded her discarded garments and set them neatly on a chair, then perched on the edge of the bed. Margaery came back and helped her with the ties, then sat in the other chair as Sansa climbed into the bed. 

A few minutes later, Sandor returned with the motherly nurse from earlier. 

“I’m nurse Mordane,” the woman said. “I’m glad you decided to come back.” 

Sansa nodded once and bit her lip nervously as her heart began to pound. Nurse Mordane set down a pale blue caddy on the counter, then glanced at Sandor and Margaery. 

“I understand you’ve chosen to proceed with a rape kit, is that correct?” Mordane asked. 

“Yes.” Sansa answered softly. 

“Okay. We can stop or pause at any time, or skip any steps that you’re not comfortable with.” Mordane said. “The first step is a questionnaire; some of the questions are quite personal, we can have these two step out if you’d like. You should also know that anyone present during any part of this process can be called as a witness if you choose to press charges.” 

Sansa looked at Sandor and Margaery. 

“It’s up to you, little bird.” Sandor said softly. 

“Margaery, can you…” Sansa trailed off, looking down. 

“Off you go.” Mordane addressed Margaery, who smiled gently. 

“I’ll be outside if you need me.” Margaery said, then slipped out of the room. 

Sandor leaned against the wall, arms crossed and looking down, as Mordane pulled a packet of papers from the caddy. She began asking questions, and marked each of Sansa’s answers. 

“When was your last consensual sexual activity?” Mordane asked. 

“Um. Saturday.” Sansa felt her cheeks turn pink as she answered Mordane’s questions about her last night with Sandor. 

“The next step is a pelvic exam,” Mordance said, laying the packet down on the counter. “Are you ready?” 

Sansa looked at Sandor. His expression was carefully controlled as he looked back at her. Mordane stayed quiet at the foot of the bed, waiting. 

Sandor pushed off the wall and grabbed the back of Margaery’s vacated seat, setting it next to her and sitting down with his back to Mordane. He took her hand and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. 

“It’s alright, little bird,” he murmured. “Take as long as you need.”

She nodded slightly and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Her heart was beating hard and fast. Finally, she opened her eyes and looked back at Sandor. He met her gaze steadily, and she felt oddly emboldened by it, like he was passing some of his strength to her through his gaze. She pulled in a shaky breath, then turned to Mordane. 

“Can we come back to that, please?” She asked. 

“Of course.” Mordane said at once. 

Next Mordane set about scraping beneath her fingernails, combing through her hair, and placing her underwear in a clear bag. Sandor rose from his chair to get out of Mordane’s way, moving to stand near her head. He kept a hand on her shoulder, and she focused on that as Mordane moved around her. Then she swabbed the inside of Sansa’s mouth and took a blood sample. 

“Alright dear, just a moment…” Mordane mumbled under her breath as she checked things off on her papers and placed tubes, swabs, and bags carefully in the blue caddy. She turned back to Sansa. “Dear, would you be comfortable reaching out to the man you were with on Saturday? It’s just some of his DNA might still have been present since it was less than three days ago. If we have a sample from him, it would help with testing.” 

She felt Sandor’s hand tense on her shoulder as blood rushed to her face. 

“Oh.” She said softly, unable to bring herself to look up at Sandor. “I, um…” 

Sandor’s hand disappeared from her shoulder and she finally swiveled her head to look at him; his face was impassive as he rolled his sleeve up farther, and he cleared his throat before moving to stand before Mordane, arm extended. She quickly schooled her look of surprise and smiled warmly at Sandor. 

“I’m glad you’re here to support her.” Mordane said as she wiped the inside of Sandor’s arm with an alcohol pad. “Many times romantic partners aren’t comfortable being in the room for this.” 

Sandor glanced sideways at Sansa before he answered. 

“It’s not about me.” He replied gruffly. 

“You’re absolutely right. Okay, little pinch…” 

A moment later Mordane was labeling the tube of Sandor’s blood, and he came back around to stand next to her, holding a piece of gauze against the inside of his arm. 

“Alright hun, all we have left now is the pelvic exam.” Mordane said, turning back to Sansa with a gentle smile. 

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat and she glanced at Sandor. 

“It’s alright.” He murmured, brushing his fingers through her hair. “Take as long as you need.” 

She nodded and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. This was the last step. The most important step. She just had to get through this and then she could go… somewhere. She couldn’t go back to her apartment, she might never go back there. She couldn't go to Arya’s, not when Arya and Gendry were sneaking Lyanna away to safety. Jon didn’t have a place in Winter Town, he lived at the wall, and Ramsay would expect her to go there. 

Her breath quickened, and Sandor’s hand moved to cup her cheek. She blinked her eyes open, her vision swimming with unshed tears. He had perched on the edge of the bed, and looked down at her with those piercing silver eyes. Again she felt his strength transfer over to her, and she took a final steadying breath before addressing Mordane without moving her eyes from Sandor. 

“I’m ready.” 

Mordane hummed softly and moved to bring the stirrups from under the bed and position them. She helped Sansa guide her feet into them, and she stiffened when the cool air hit her womanhood. She was completely exposed again, and began to tremble. 

“It’s alright.” Sandor murmured to her, his thumb stroking over her cheek. “You’re safe.” 

She gripped his other hand with both of hers, holding on to him to ground herself. She timed her breathing with his to keep herself focused. They both ignored Mordane as she shuffled around the room to prepare everything. A few moments later, she settled on a stool at the foot of the bed, between Sansa’s legs. 

“I’m going to insert a speculum. Are you ready?” 

“Yes.” Sansa whispered, her voice breaking. “Just do it. Please.” 

She hissed in pain as Mordane inserted the cold, metal device, her grip on Sandor’s hand tightening. She whimpered softly when Mordane opened the hinges, spreading her open. 

“Look at me.” 

Sansa hadn’t realized her eyes were shut until Sandor spoke. She forced her eyes open and instantly drowned in the molten silver of his eyes, swirling with unidentifiable emotions. She moved one of her hands to rest against his that still held her face, and laced the fingers of her other hand through his. 

“Breathe.” He reminded her softly. “Just breathe.” 

She nodded as she inhaled deeply, wincing as Mordane collected a sample. It was over quickly, and soon her legs were back on the bed and her modesty covered once again. She and Sandor didn’t move as Mordane removed her gloves and told Sansa she’d done well. Mordane quietly left the room, kit in hand, and they still didn’t move until there was a soft knock on the door. They broke apart as Margaery peeked inside. 

“Sorry Sansa, your sister and cousin are here. I’ve reserved a conference room.” Margaery said, looking sympathetic. 

“Just a minute, please.” Sansa said, swinging her legs off the bed. 

Margaery nodded and slipped back out, the door clicking shut quietly. 

“You did well, little bird.” Sandor said quietly, rising to his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you.” Sansa replied awkwardly after a moment. “Will, um… Will you come with me to talk to my family? We need to figure out what I’m doing next, and…” She trailed off, ducking her head as her face burned again. 

She didn’t look up as Sandor moved, but he crooked his finger under her chin again and she lifted her eyes to meet him. 

“I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me to, little bird.” He said, his eyes hardened and serious. “I’m right here until you say otherwise.” 

“Thank you.” She croaked, her eyes welling with tears again. 

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, crouching in front of her. 

“Sorry.” She mumbled, quickly moving her hands to wipe at her eyes. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, little bird.” 

She nodded and sniffled, breathing deeply. 

“I’ll step outside so you can get changed.” He told her quietly, then left the room. 

She dressed quickly, then joined Sandor and Margaery in the hall. Margaery squeezed her hand, then led them back to the elevator, taking them to the third floor. She opened a door and ushered them inside. 

Jon and Arya sat at a large, round table. Tormund was leaning against a wall. Sandor pulled out a chair for her next to Arya, and she sank into it. A moment later they were all seated, and Sansa looked nervously between them, waiting for someone to speak. After a moment, Jon cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. 

“Gendry is packing for him and Arya to take Lyanna south.” He said. “Your friend Ygritte agreed to be a decoy, to leave the hospital with me, stop at your apartment, and come up to the wall. Hopefully Ramsay will follow us, giving you a few days to find a lawyer without his knowledge.” 

“I can’t ask Ygritte to do that.” Sansa objected. 

“She offered, we accepted.” Arya said sternly. “I think she was glad for the chance to get to know our dear cousin better.” 

Arya flashed a wicked grin at Jon, whose glare was undermined slightly by the blush tinting his stubbly cheeks. 

“That leaves you here without family, though.” Jon pressed on. 

“We’ll look after you.” Tormund promised from across the table. He gestured between himself and Sandor as he continued, “Between us, Beric, and that greasy fucker who was here yesterday, we’ll make sure you’re not left alone.” 

“Bronn.” Margaery answered Sansa’s question before she could ask. 

Sansa nodded once, then spoke. “I can’t go back to my apartment.” 

“Agreed.” Arya and Jon said together. 

“I assume that hotel from earlier is out as well, he must’ve followed at least one of us there.” Jon added. 

“My place won’t work.” Margaery said. “You’ve been there so much and we don’t know how long he’s had you followed, he’s bound to check there.” 

“It’s not safe for you to be there either, then.” Jon frowned at Margaery, who smirked and waved a dismissive hand. 

“Daenerys offered her guest room, and Drogo is back for another visit. I’ll be quite safe there.” Margaery assured him. 

“Where will Sansa stay then?” Jon asked the table at large. “Any ideas?” 

“She can stay with me.” Sandor offered quietly. 

Everyone at the table turned to look at him, and Sansa noticed he looked uncomfortable with all the attention. 

“Has she been there before?” Arya asked after a moment, 

“Once.” Sansa answered. 

“Then no.” Jon said at once. “It’s not safe.” 

Tormund hummed softly, looking unconvinced. 

“That little whoreson wouldn’t stand a chance against the Hound.” He said, winking at Sandor. “He’d rip him to pieces if he only but had the chance.” 

Sandor glared at Tormund for a moment, then said, “He’s right. No one will touch her if she’s with me.” 

“Sansa?” Jon asked quietly, giving her a searching look. 

“Yes.” Sansa replied almost at once. “I think that would be safest.” 

Jon hesitated and exchanged a look with Arya, who shrugged half-heartedly. 

“Fine.” Jon said, waving a hand. “You’ll go there after Ygritte and I leave, but I want you to wait until I’m sure we’re being followed before you move.” 

Sansa nodded her agreement. 

“Sansa, I called Robb…” Aray said slowly. 

“Arya!” Sansa gasped. “Why? Why would you bring Robb into this?” 

“Because if Gendry and I are taking Lyanna to Volantis, but Robb is here, hopefully he won’t think to look for her there.” Arya explained calmly. 

Sansa slumped in her seat. She didn’t want anyone knowing about this more than strictly necessary, and she definitely didn’t need Robb hovering over her. But Arya had a point, and Lyanna’s safety was the most important thing now. 

“Fine.” Sansa sighed, dropping her head into her hands. 

She only half listened as Jon and Arya explained the rest of the plan they’d devised, but Sandor was nodding along seriously so she knew he could fill her in later. 

“I think the last thing…” Jon hesitated, “is for you to speak to the police, Sansa.” 

She inhaled sharply. 

“Today?” She asked. 

“The sooner the better.” Jon nodded. “We need that police report to file for emergency protection, and that will keep him from being able to directly contact you until the court date. It probably won’t stop him from having you followed, so you need to act fast once we’ve led him away.” 

Sansa was trembling again as she nodded her agreement, and Arya slipped from the room to call for the police. Jon stood up to stretch and began pacing the room, typing into his phone. Tormund asked Margaery a question that Sansa didn’t hear, and Margaery moved to the seat next to Tormund to answer. 

“Little bird…” 

Sansa snapped her head to the side to look at Sandor. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, brushing his knuckles along her arm. 

“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully, twisting her fingers together to keep her hands from shaking. 

“Just a little longer.” Sandor assured her, pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. 

She nodded silently, trying to control her breathing. Sandor placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. A moment later, Arya knocked softly and entered with two police officers on her heel. 

“Sansa, these are officers Manderly and Umber. They’re here to take your statement.” Arya said. 

“Thank you both for taking the time to come up here.” Sansa rose to her feet and shook each of their hands in turn. 

“Just doing our jobs,” Officer Umber said, smiling slightly. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, Miss Stark? The rest of you, please clear out so we can speak privately.” Officer Manderly added. 

“Are you alright, San?” Arya asked softly, taking a step closer. 

“Yes. Yes, let's just get this over with.” Sansa said. 

Officer Umber ushered everyone out the door, and Officer Manderly motioned for her to sit. A few moments later, the officers were sitting across from her asking questions. She recounted yesterday’s incident in the records room, then the attack itself. She paused a few times to accept tissues from Officer Umber, as Officer Manderly took notes. Then she offered her phone so they could see all her texts to Bronn about the unusual phone calls and black sedans. 

“Alright I think that’s everything…” Officer Manderly said softly, looking back over his notes. 

“You did well, Miss Stark.” Officer Umber told her kindly. “We’ll make sure the kit is tested right away.” 

“When can I get a copy of your report?” Sansa asked. “I need to file for emergency protection.” 

“Come by the station tomorrow and we’ll have a copy ready for you.” Umber said. “Thank you for reporting this crime, Miss Stark. Call us if you think of anything else.” Umber offered her a business card. 

“And continue to note anything suspicious that might help us with the investigation.” Manderly added. 

She thanked them both and they left, leaving Sansa sitting alone at the table. She dropped her head into her hands, trying to hold back tears. What was she thinking? Why had she let them convince her she could stay? She could’ve been on a plane by now, far away from Ramsay. 

“Sansa?” Margaery’s voice reached her, and Sansa looked up. 

“Sorry.” She mumbled thickly, reaching for another tissue and blowing her nose. “Where are Jon and Arya?” 

“They’ve left. Arya is on her way with Lyanna, and Jon is on his way with Ygritte.” Margaery answered. 

“Are you ready, little bird?” 

She hadn’t heard Sandor come in, and jumped when she heard his voice. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready. Let’s go.” Sansa sniffled again and rose to her feet. 

Margaery pulled Sansa’s hood up over her head, tucking her hair back. Sandor wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her out of the hospital and down to his truck. He opened the door for her and offered his hand to steady her as she climbed in. 

A moment later they were pulling away, and Sansa slumped back in her seat. They were quiet as they drove, and she appreciated that Sandor didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with chit-chat. 

He wrapped his arm around her again as they entered his apartment building, her duffel bag hanging off his shoulder. He fumbled with his keys when they reached his door, and he motioned her in ahead of him. 

“Sit.” 

He nudged her towards his couch, and disappeared into the kitchen. She obeyed, perching on the edge as he clattered around in the kitchen. A moment later he sat next to her, and pressed a glass into her hands. 

“Wildling whiskey.” He said. “I think you deserve a drink after this day.” 

She murmured thanks and accepted the glass, downing the mouthful of amber liquid. 

“Another?” He asked, and she nodded. 

This time when he came back, he brought the bottle with him. She downed another mouthful of the whiskey, feeling the tingling burn start to move out from her throat. He silently poured a bit more in the glass. 

“Are you drinking?” She asked softly, turning her head to look at him. 

“Not yet.” Sandor replied, just as quiet. 

She raised an eyebrow and his somber expression broke as he smirked at her. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and took a long pull. She smiled slightly, and drank from her glass. 

“Here.” He handed her the bottle. “I’ll start the shower for you.” 

She accepted the bottle and he squeezed her leg, then rose and walked down the hall. She heard the shower start and set the bottle down, pulling her bag over to look for something to sleep in. 

Sandor returned a few moments later, and she rose, clutching a t-shirt and soft yoga pants to her chest. She followed him down the hall, thanking him softly when he pointed out the towel he’d set on the counter for her. He shut the door behind him when he left, and she slowly stripped off her clothes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. 

She stepped into the shower and just stood there, letting the hot water run down her face and body, for a long time. Eventually she blinked her eyes open and turned to the shelf. She was relieved to see that Sandor didn’t have 3-in-1, and actually had separate shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles.

She breathed the scent in deeply as she began to wash herself, the smell of Sandor far more comforting and intoxicating than the hot shower and whiskey. Just two days ago she’d been excited to share a bed with Sandor. Now though, she couldn’t believe how drastically the circumstances had changed in 48 short hours. 

She shut off the shower and toweled herself dry. She wrapped the towel around her body and stepped out onto the cool tile. She wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at her reflection for a long moment; her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, she skin paler than usual, and her hair looked several shades darker, slicked in a sheet down her back. 

She sighed softly as she moved the towel up to her hair, squeezing out as much water as she could. She tried to finger comb it into something acceptable, but quickly gave up. She braced her hands on the counter and hung her head. 

Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Sandor had seen her naked plenty of times by now. 

_No,_ she thought suddenly, _he’s seen Alayne naked plenty of times._

He’d never seen her, Sansa, naked. And now here she was, naked, wet, and vulnerable in his bathroom, getting ready to put on a faded t-shirt and old yoga pants, when he was used to seeing her looking like a model in beautiful lingerie. 

She pulled on her selected garments, mentally kicking herself for not thinking to pack something nicer for her pajamas into that duffel bag. It felt like a million years ago, but it was only this morning. And she’d selected this shirt and pants when she thought she’d be sleeping on Arya’s couch.

She carefully folded her dirty clothes, hung her towel, straightened the shower curtain, and ran her fingers through her hair one last time. When she couldn’t delay any longer, she finally opened the door and padded back towards the living room. 

In her absence, Sandor had put a pillow and blanket on the couch. She felt her stomach drop; he’d never offered his bed, of course he expected her to sleep on the couch. She glanced around for the man himself, and saw him in the small kitchen. He’d changed into dark gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that clung to every bulge and crevice of his well-muscled body. He’d let his hair out of the knot he wore at the nape of his neck when he was working, and was spinning a spatula in his hands. 

She took another step forwards and a floorboard creaked beneath her. Sandor glanced over his shoulder at her, his mouth twitching into what she knew was supposed to be a smile. 

“Grilled cheese?” He offered, flipping the pan onto a plate and holding it out to her. 

She mumbled thanks as she accepted, and perched back on the edge of the couch. Sandor sat next to her a moment later, flicking on the TV. He made no move to touch her, simply picked up the bottle of whiskey and took a long pull as she began to nibble at the sandwich. The silence between them felt uncomfortable now, and she tried to focus on the news anchor to distract herself. 

After a few minutes, Sandor silently offered the bottle. She accepted and drank deeply, then handed the bottle back to him. Another few minutes went by, then she set her plate on the coffee table and wiped her fingers on her pants. Her heart was beating rapidly again, and she acted before she could give herself more time to panic. 

She moved to the side and threw her leg over Sandor’s lap, straddling his thighs. She cupped his face in her hands and began to kiss him. He was frozen in shock for a moment, then his strong hands moved to her upper arms, firmly pushing her back. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“Please, Sandor.” She whispered, pressing another kiss against his lips; his grip on her arms tightened. “Please. I… I can feel him. Like he’s still touching me.” 

His grip faltered, just for a moment, and she pushed against him, kissing him again. 

“Stop.” He said sharply, pushing her away again. “We shouldn’t-” 

“Please, Sandor!” She cut him off, moving her hands to his shoulders. “Please! I can feel him! I feel his hands, I feel his breath, I feel-” She choked off with a small sob, moving one hand to cover her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to feel him, Sandor.” She whispered shakily after a moment, looking back at him. “I want to feel you. Please.” 

He looked torn, gazing up at her with torment and rage and desire flashing behind his eyes. 

“Please.” She repeated. 

Hesitantly, he leaned forward and caught her mouth with his. She let out a small moan that was more relief than anything, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled her body tight against his, and he dropped his hands from her arms, letting them rest limply at his sides as he kissed her. 

“Touch me, Sandor.” She whispered against his lips. 

When he didn’t move, she took his hands in hers and guided them to her waist. He went willingly, gently laying his hands against her. She moved her arms back up around his neck, but his hands didn’t wander as they usually did. She felt her eyes beginning to prickle at the corners and groaned in frustration with herself.

“Sandor.” She whispered again, pulling back slightly. “Touch me. Like you normally do.” 

She pressed her lips back to his, and a moment later his hands slid down slowly, but just barely. Then they ghosted back up, and he moved them to cup her face. She deepened the kiss enthusiastically, opening her mouth to him and moaning softly as she felt his tongue against hers. But his hands stilled again, and her eyes burned with unshed tears as she came to the realization that he didn’t want her. She wanted him, she needed him, but he didn’t want her. He must think her so damaged, so disgusting, if he wouldn’t touch her like before. He could touch a stripper, he could fuck a whore, but he couldn’t let his hands wander over poor, sad, damaged Sansa. She was in his lap, not just willing but begging, and he didn’t want her. 

Their kiss broke as she sobbed once, and she leaned her forehead against his. They both breathed heavily, but she knew for incredibly different reasons. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she whispered her plea once more. 

“Please… Sandor, please. I need you.” 

He closed the distance between their lips and kissed her. Gently. Softly. Tenderly. Like she might break. Her body began to shake with the sobs she was biting back, and a moment later she tore her mouth from his. She sobbed loudly, desperately, pressing both hands to her mouth. 

“Little bird…” Sandor murmured, pushing her hair back behind her ear. 

She pressed her mouth against his again, forcefully, desperately, trying to chase her demons away and lose herself in the way Sandor felt against her body. He responded to her, he kissed her back, but after another moment her sobs forced her to break this kiss. 

“Shhh…” he murmured, pulling her in closer. 

She moved with his touch, laying her body fully against his and clutching his shirt in her fists. She sobbed into his neck, tears and snot staining his shirt. He moved his hands up and down her spine, softly, gently, lovingly, as he whispered into her hair. 

“You’re safe, little bird. It’s alright. I got you. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you.” 

He tucked her head under his chin and rocked her gently from side to side, whispering sweet words into her hair, his fingers ghosting over her as though she was so fragile she might break into pieces under his gentle touch. She was too distraught to listen to his soft words any longer, she could barely hear them over the sound of the sobs ripping from her throat. All she heard was, 

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm typically open to any and all views, but this chapter is kind of my baby. I didn't get a rape kit or make a police report, but I did start fucking random people willy nilly after I was assaulted. So anyone that has comments about Sansa jumping Sandor like that being unrealistic, please keep them to yourself. 
> 
> Other than that, please let me know what you think!!


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

It took Sansa a moment to remember where she was when she woke up. Her eyes stung and head ached from so much crying yesterday. She didn’t remember going to bed last night, but at some point Sandor must’ve carried her into his room. He was curled protectively around her, with her head tucked under his chin and his arm laying heavy across her waist. Their legs were tangled together, and both his arms we wrapped around her, holding her to his chest. She stroked her fingers down the soft cotton of his t-shirt, feeling the hard muscle beneath it. He was snoring softly, so she knew he was still asleep. 

All the feelings she hadn’t dealt with over the last few days were bubbling up in her belly, clenching and twisting, making her feel sick. Everything was such a mess now, and her head was still reeling with how quickly everything had turned to complete shit. 

She slowly began to try to untangle herself from Sandor, but he grumbled softly and tightened his arms unconsciously. Sansa sighed. A few days ago she would’ve been full of butterflies, excited to wake up next to Sandor for the first time. Now though, she wanted to get away as fast as she could. She moved again, slowly pulling her leg from around his thigh. 

She froze when he inhaled sharply and his body went stiff, signaling he’d woken up. 

“It’s just me.” She whispered, using his consciousness to pull farther away. “Go back to sleep.” 

“Little bird…” he pulled his arms away from her and stretched as he yawned. 

“Go back to sleep.” She repeated softly, edging towards the edge of the bed. 

He blinked blearily for a moment, sleepy eyes focusing on her face. A soft smile touched his lips as his eyes focused on her, but it dropped as quick as it came. 

“It’s early.” He murmured, pushing himself up on his elbow. “You should try to sleep a bit more.” 

“I’m okay.” She forced a smile and rolled away from him, sitting up and swinging her legs off the bed. 

She didn’t look at him as she left the room, but felt his eyes on her. She went to her duffel bag in the living room and dug out her toothbrush and new clothes for the day. She went to the bathroom to freshen up and change, putting on a pair of jeans and a white button down shirt. She finger combed her hair, then pulled it up into a high ponytail. It would have to do for now. 

When she left the bathroom, she heard Sandor rustling about in the kitchen. She glanced at him and saw him scooping coffee grounds into a filter, his back to her. 

She cleared her throat softly to announce her presence. “Do you know where my phone is?” She asked. 

“On the dresser.” He answered, glancing over her shoulder. 

She retrieved her phone and sat on the couch. She tapped out texts to Jon and Arya, then opened her text thread with Bronn. 

_Sansa 6:14am: can you come with me today? Lots to do_

“Coffee?” 

She jumped and looked up, pressing a hand to her chest. Sandor’s eyebrow was raised, and he extended a cup towards her. 

“Thank you.” She replied softly, taking the mug. 

“I’ve taken today off.” Sandor said softly, sitting down next to her. “I can come with you to take care of whatever you need to do today.” 

Her phone pinged. 

_Bronn 6:17am: sure thing, Red. Where can I pick you up?_

“Bronn will be with me.” Sansa said, fidgeting nervously. “You should go to work, I don’t want Ramsay to find out who you are, or he’ll come looking here.” 

He hummed softly, taking a long drink of his own coffee. 

“What do you need to take care of today?” He asked. 

Sansa sighed softly. “I need to pick up the police report and file for the emergency protection order, find a lawyer, talk to Ros and quit the club….” She ticked off on her fingers as she spoke. 

“You’re quitting the club?” He asked, raising his eyebrow again. 

“Yes.” Sansa let out a small, humorless laugh. 

“Why?” 

She sighed again. “Ramsay knows about it. That won’t help my custody case. If the judge has a choice between a single mother who works two jobs and one of them is dancing, or a wealthy man with wealthy parents, who will they pick?” 

“No judge in their right mind will give your kid to a rapist.” Sandor snorted, waving a dismissive hand. “You shouldn’t worry about that.” 

“No judge in their right mind would sign a marriage license for two people who’ve clearly never met, yet here we are.” Sansa shot back. 

Sandor’s eyebrow raised impossibly higher, and Sansa looked away. She picked up her mug and took another long drink, wincing at the bitter taste. She never drank her coffee black. 

“The judge will see a woman who’s worked her ass off to provide for her kid.” Sandor said softly. “No matter what the job was, you made sure she had what she needed. That proves dedication.” 

Sansa dropped her head into her hands. “That’s not a gamble I can take with my daughter's life.” 

Sandor was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably. 

“What’s the address here?” Sansa asked finally. “So Bronn can pick me up.” 

She typed the address into her phone as he gave it, and pressed send, then tossed her phone on the coffee table. She could still feel Sandor looking at her, but refused to turn her head. 

“Breakfast?” He asked after a moment, pushing himself off the couch. “I can make some eggs?” 

“I don’t eat breakfast, thank you though.” Sansa replied, taking another sip of coffee. 

“You need your strength, today will be a long day.” Sandor pressed her. 

“No, thank you.” Sansa finally turned to look at him. 

She was officially irritated now. She was grateful that Sandor was willing to help, that he cared, but he seemed intent on pushing his views on her. She knew what she needed to do, and she didn’t want or need his opinion about it. 

They stared at each other for a long moment, then he shrugged nonchalantly and went to the kitchen. 

_Bronn 6:31am: when do you need me to pick you up?_

_Sansa 6:32am: Now. Please._

_Bronn 6:35am: I’ll be there in 20_

Sansa set her phone back on the table and stood, looking around for her shoes. She sat back down to put them on, lacing them slowly. Sandor sat next to her again a moment later, and placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her, then began eating off his own plate. She stared at it for a long moment, then turned towards Sandor. 

“You need to eat.” He said quietly, not meeting her gaze. 

“I said I wasn’t hungry.” 

He shrugged, still not looking at her. She stared at him for a long moment, then scoffed and rose to her feet. She heard him set his plate down, but didn’t look at him as she stuffed her clothes from yesterday back into her bag and retrieved her toothbrush from the bathroom. 

“What are you doing, Sansa?” He asked when she came back to the living room. 

“I’m leaving.” 

“I see that. You’re coming back tonight though.” He hesitated as she zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Aren’t you?” 

“I don’t know.” She replied curtly. 

“Little bird.” He stood and crossed his arms, looking impatient. “Put the bag down and talk to me.” 

“No.” 

“Sansa, please…” 

“No!” She whirled on him. “No! I appreciate your help, Sandor, truly. I’m grateful that you care, but it’s not up to you what I need to be doing right now. _I know_ what’s best for my daughter, I know what I need to do to keep her safe. _I know_ that I’m not fucking hungry and I haven’t eaten breakfast since I was 13! So just stop! Please!” 

She drew in a deep breath and took a step back. Sandor looked like he’d been slapped, and for a moment she felt guilty for her outburst. Just for a moment though. 

“Fuck me for giving a shit, right?” Sandor spat, then laughed humorlessly. “Alright then, I’ll keep my opinions to myself. You do whatever the fuck you want, Sansa. The rest of us will stay over here on the sidelines like you want.” 

He shook his head and turned away from her, scoffing. Sansa stared at him with her mouth agape for a moment, then the anger set in and her mouth snapped shut. 

“That’s right.” She said venomously. “Stand on the sidelines, because _my daughter_ is more important than anything. Anything and anyone who isn’t my daughter is back on the sidelines, _where they belong,_ so that she can be safe. And to be perfectly frank, I don’t care how _you_ feel about that.” 

Sansa turned on her heel and marched towards the door. 

“Shit.” Sandor muttered behind her. “Sansa, little bird, that’s not what I-” 

“Don’t bother!” Sansa snapped without turning. 

She flung the door open and walked into the hall, not closing the door behind her. 

“Sansa! Come back, that’s not what I meant! I-” 

His voice cut off when the door to the stairs snapped shut behind her. She hurried down the stairs, fuming. She knew, she _fucking knew_ that this is what would happen if she accepted Sandor’s help. Now he thought he had a say in what she did, which is exactly what she didn’t fucking want. 

“Gods damn it, Arya.” She muttered under her breath as she came out of the stairwell. 

Several people in the lobby turned to look at her as the door slammed against the wall. She mumbled an apology to those nearest and dropped her eyes to the ground. She pushed her sunglasses onto her face and hurried for the door, looking around as she stepped outside. Almost immediately she saw Bronn’s sleek black Cadillac SUV parallel parked half a block away. She took a deep breath and marched forward, trying to quash the nagging, irrational disappointment that Sandor hadn’t tried to follow her. 

“Morning, Red.” Bronn greeted. “Perfect timing. Where to first?” 

“Coffee.” She answered stiffly, throwing her bag into the backseat. Her stomach rumbled and she felt another pang of guilt. “Breakfast and coffee.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Bronn gave her a cheeky grin and silly salute, pulling away from the curb. 

*****

“Arya!” Sansa nearly dropped her phone in her haste to answer it. “Arya, how are you? How’s Lyanna? Are you safe? Did you make it to-” 

“Seven hells, one at a time.” Arya grumbled. “We’re fine, we’re safe. That’s not why I’m calling. What happened with the doctor?” 

Sansa groaned. How did she know? 

“Nothing happened, Arya. But we can’t spend any more of his money. We have to figure out another way.” 

“Sounds like something happened.” Arya replied in a sing-song voice. “Out with it, San. What happened with Doctor Angry?” 

“Just what I thought would happen.” Sansa sighed, raking a hand down her face. “He’s bankrolling, so he thinks it’s up to him how I handle this.” 

“More specific, please.” Arya sounded bored. 

Sansa sighed heavily. “I can’t talk right now, I’m about to meet with a lawyer.” 

“Uh-huh.” Sansa could practically feel Arya’s eye roll. “And how do you plan to pay for a lawyer without Doctor Scarface?” 

“Don’t call him that.” 

“So whatever it was, it wasn’t bad enough for you to stop defending him.” 

Sansa let her arm fall, squeezing her phone in her hand as she tried to push down her frustration. She took several deep breaths, then raised the phone back to her ear. 

“I’ll call you later.” She said between gritted teeth. 

“Sansa, I’m being serious.” Arya said, all teasing dropping from her voice. “Tell me what happened.” 

“How do you even know something happened?” Sansa snapped. 

“He called me.” 

“He called you?” Sansa repeated incredulously. “What did he say?” 

“He said that you argued this morning, but that he was still committed to helping you. Said I should make sure you still had somewhere safe to sleep, because he didn’t think you were coming back.” 

Sansa looked at her hands, shifting uncomfortably. 

“So I’m asking you again, Sansa, before I call Jon. What happened?” 

She sighed again deeply before replying. 

“He just kept pushing me, Arya.” Sansa replied sadly. “Every little thing I said, he had an opinion about it. I told him to back off, he didn’t listen. He doubled down.” 

"By making breakfast?" 

Sansa's eyes began to prickle as another wave of guilt washed over her. 

"That was just the last thing…" she mumbled. 

“Miss Stark? He’ll see you now.” The receptionist called over to her. 

“Arya, I have to go. Don’t call Jon yet, okay? I’ll go back to Sandor’s.” 

“Call me back.” 

Sansa quickly ended the call and stood, and followed the receptionist down a long hall. She knocked twice on a door, then opened it and motioned Sansa inside. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Stark, I’m Jon Umber.” The young man behind the desk stood and offered his hand. 

“Pleasure.” She repeated, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Any relation to Officer Umber with Winter Town police?” 

“My father.” The younger Umber answered with a smile. “Please, sit.” 

Sansa perched on the edge of the uncomfortable seat, setting her purse on the floor. 

"My assistant tells me this is a child custody case, is that correct?" He asked, settling back into his much more comfortable looking chair. 

"Yes." Sansa cleared her throat softly when her voice came out hoarse. "Yes, my estranged husband says he wants to take her back to the Dreadfort with him." 

"What were the circumstances of the separation?" 

"I left. In the middle of the night.” 

Umber raised his eyebrows. 

“He, um…” Sansa fidgeted. “He was cruel to me. I was worried about my daughter's safety. I had an opportunity, so I took it. He didn’t try to get in touch with me, not until he showed up at my place of work and threatened me three days ago.” 

Umber scooted closer to his desk, opened a laptop and began typing furiously. “Do you have any proof of his behavior during your marriage?” 

“Plenty of scars, if that’s what you mean.” 

His typing cut off suddenly. “I’m sorry you went through that. Can you tell me more about the scars?” 

Sansa took a deep breath, then told him everything. About the scars and how she got them, how he was sleeping with another woman the night she left, how she waited to change her number but he never called. How she ended up marrying Ramsay in the first place, how Roose and Petyr arranged the whole thing. How she started dancing, and met Sandor. How she accepted payment both times she’d slept with him, but she wasn’t a prostitute. How Ramsay showed up and ruined everything, insinuating that he’d kill her if she fought back. Umber kept his face carefully blank as she spoke, never flinching or frowning. 

“When I was released, I went to my apartment. Ramsay was there, and he attacked me. He… he held me down on the couch, and told me he’d stop when I agreed to take him to Lyanna.” Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she raised one hand to cover her mouth. 

Umber released a long sigh and opened a desk drawer. He stood and came around the desk, leaning against it in front of her, and offered a pack of tissues. She accepted, moping at her eyes. 

“Sorry.” She whispered, trying to smile up at him. “It’s just…” 

“A lot.” He finished for her, giving her a gentle half smile. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the information.” 

She nodded, dropping her eyes. “Can you help me?” She asked quietly. 

“Yes.” He answered confidently. “Yes, I think I can.” 

She looked up at him. “Thank you.” She whispered. “Tell me what I need to do.” 

“You’ve already filed for emergency protection, right?” 

“Yes. I should hear from the judge before the end of the day.” 

“Good. Okay, I need you to compile everything you can to document his abuse. Any journals you’ve written, statements from any witnesses you had at the time, photos of the scars, any photos you took at the time of the injury. A statement from the cousin you stayed with after you left him. After the protection is in place, we’ll file for divorce. That wealthy family he has at his back? Roose Bolton can’t afford to have his son go down for rape and domestic violence, his political career would end like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Roose Bolton will reign in his son. He’ll settle.” 

Sansa nodded and took a deep breath. 

“Tell me, Miss Stark,” he cocked his head, “what is your endgame? Do you want to see the entire Bolton family go down for what they did to you? Do you want Ramsay in jail? Do you want his parental rights severed?” 

“I just want my daughter safe.” Sansa said. “By any means necessary. If that means I keep what Ramsay did to me out of the courts, that’s what I’ll do. If that means I have to fight him, and get messy, and deal with everyone calling me a whore for the rest of my life, then I’ll do that.” 

“I like you, Miss Stark.” Umber grinned. “Going over Ramsay’s head to his father is the path of least resistance. Roose Bolton is a son of a bitch, but he’s smart and he’s conniving and he won’t let his bastard son ruin everything he’s worked for. If Roose is on your side, this will be a walk in the park.” 

Umber walked back around his desk and started typing on his computer, then picked up his desk phone and punched in a number. He leaned back in his chair as it rang. 

“Smalljon Umber for Roose Bolton. Tell him it’s urgent, regarding his son.” 

Sansa drew in a shaky breath, twisting her fingers together on her lap. Umber gave her a reassuring smile, winding the cord of the phone around his index finger. 

“Senator Bolton! Glad you were available to take my call, hope I’m not interrupting anything too important?” He paused, and his grin widened. “Excellent, excellent. You’re a busy man, Senator, so I’ll cut to the chase. I’m calling on behalf of your daughter-by-law, Sansa Stark. Were you aware that your son came to Winter Town to threaten her?” 

Sansa inhaled sharply. 

“I thought not, I don’t imagine that you’d condone that kind of behavior from the Heir of the Dreadfort. Miss Stark doesn’t want trouble with your family, Senator, as I’m sure you don’t want trouble with hers. Are you available to meet face-to-face so we can discuss the situation between your son and my client at length?” Umber made a couple notes on his pad. “Of course, of course. Let’s see here, Monday afternoon?” He glanced at Sansa and she nodded her approval. “Yes, we can do that. 2 o’clock. I look forward to finally meeting you in person, Senator. Yes. Yes. You as well.” He hung up and made a couple more notes, then raised his eyes to Sansa with a triumphant smile. “We have Roose.” 

Sansa sobbed in relief, covering her face with her hands again. Umber chuckled softly, and she heard him come around the desk again. 

“There, there, Miss Stark. Here, take a tissue.” 

“Sansa.” She sniffled. “Call me Sansa.” 

“Well then, Sansa, we still have a lot to do.” Umber smiled down at her. 

Sansa nodded, wiping her eyes again and taking a deep breath. 

“Okay. I’m ready.” And she smiled her first genuine smile in three days. 

*****

“Where to next, Red?” Bronn asked as she climbed back into the SUV. 

“Lost Ones. I need to speak to Ros.” 

“Titty bar, coming right up.” 

They were quiet most of the drive. 

“Is Umber confident?” Bronn finally asked. 

“Yes.” Sansa smiled again. “There’s a lot to do, and Ramsay is a wild card, but he thinks getting his father and step-mum on our side will be easy.” 

“No shit?” 

“No shit.” 

“Congratulations, Red.” Bronn squeezed her knee. 

He parked in front of the club, and this time came in with her. He followed a step behind her to Ros’s office. The door was open, so Sansa tapped on it and cleared her throat to announce her presence. 

“Alayne! What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” 

“I need to talk to you about hiring extra security to be here during my shifts.” Sansa replied. 

Ros raised an eyebrow, and motioned for her to sit down. Sansa felt Bronn’s curious eyes on her as he took the seat next to her. Ros’s eyes flashed to Bronn, then she looked back at Sansa. 

Sansa took a deep breath and explained everything. Ros’s eyebrows rose steadily higher and higher as Sansa spoke. 

“My lawyer said he thinks I should keep dancing. He said if I stop it could make a jury think I’m scared of Ramsay, or weak, or that my morales are wishy-washy. He doesn’t think it will get to the courts, but he thinks that Ramsay is probably still having me followed.” Sansa finished. 

“Seven hells.” Ros murmured, leaning back in her chair. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. Bronn, can you be here every Saturday?” 

“Yes, I’ll be here.” Bronn nodded. 

“Okay. And we have Jorah and Barristan, we’ll let them know to keep a closer eye on you. And Podrick. I’m sure one of you knows someone who can come on temporarily.” 

“I’ll make some calls.” Bronn nodded again. 

“What about your regular? He’s been here open to close the last few weeks, if you’re safe in a room with him…?” 

“Sandor won’t be coming to the club anymore.” Sansa said firmly. 

Bronn and Ros exchanged a look, Bronn shrugging slightly. Ros nodded slowly, turning back to Sansa. 

“Alright, darling. We’ll find another body for security. Is there anything else I need to know?” Ros asked. 

“That’s all for now.” Sansa said, rising to her feet. Ros stood as well. “Thank you, Ros. For everything.” 

Ros came around the desk and embraced her. 

“Everything will be okay, darling. We’re all behind you.” She withdrew and held Sansa at arms length, looking at her determinedly. “Promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything else you need.” 

“I promise.” Sansa smiled, tears welling in her eyes. 

Ros hugged her again. 

“You look after her, Bronn.” Ros said as she released Sansa. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Sansa slung her purse over her shoulder and left, Bronn on her heels. 

“What the hell happened with your doctor?” He asked when they were safely back in the car. 

“I don’t know yet. Take me back to his apartment, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm seriously having so much fun writing this fic! Hope you're all enjoying it too. Please let me know what you think of the latest installment and have a great weekend!!
> 
> Also someone pointed out in the comments of the last chapter that I didn't explicitly state Sansa took emergency contraception. I haven't gone back to add it yet, so for now let's just pretend I did.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone cares, I pictured Peter Steele as Sandor while I wrote this chapter. Enjoy!

Sansa stood in front of Sandor's door, staring at it. She’d been there probably 10 minutes, just waiting for the courage to knock. She had to knock. She had to talk to him. But she still didn’t know what to say. 

_Hey Sandor, thanks for everything. I can’t see you anymore because sometimes you act like a raging imbecile, but I’d like to keep spending your money and sleeping on your couch. By the way, I love you._

No, definitely not that, even though it was true. But maybe it was time to tell the truth. To stop hiding behind fake names and lies. To stop holding everyone at arm's length. She’d held Jon and Arya away, and that was surely a mistake. But getting closer to Sandor right now would be a mistake too. 

Wouldn’t it? 

The door opened and Sansa jumped, yelping softly as her hand flew to her chest. 

“Sansa?” 

“Seven save me, Sandor, you scared me!” Sansa cried. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, taking a step back. 

“We need to talk.” Sansa said. “Do you have time?” 

He nodded once and took another step back and motioned her in. Her heart was still pounding after her fright with the door, but she squared her shoulders and entered the apartment. She let her duffel bag fall off her shoulder, and turned to face Sandor. His eyes were on the bag, and he slowly raised them to her face, looking confused. 

“I never told you why I got married.” Sansa said. 

Sandor’s eyebrow shot up. “Because you were in love?” There was a sarcastic bite to his voice that she knew what meant to cover whatever his true feelings were.

“No.” Sansa said calmly, linking her hands together in front of her. “Five years ago my uncle, Petyr Baelish, came to King’s Landing to get Robert Baratheon’s support for his senate run. Before he could seal the deal, we crossed paths. He saw how unhappy I was, saw the bruises Joffrey left on me, and he took me away from there. Rescued me.” 

“But how-” 

“Let me finish. Please.” Sansa looked into Sandor’s eyes, but quickly dropped her gaze to his feet. “I stayed with Uncle Petyr and my Aunt Lysa for awhile, using the name Alayne so Joffrey’s goons wouldn’t find me. Claimed I was his daughter. And then four years ago, he made a deal with Roose Bolton. If I married Roose’s son, Ramsay, Roose Bolton would endorse Uncle Petyr for the senate. Petyr told me I owed him, that it was my fault he lost the Baratheon’s support, and this was what he needed me to do to pay him back for taking me from there. He implied that he’d tell Joffrey where I was if I didn’t go along with it. I agreed to meet Ramsay, and that first day, he was quite charming. He was sweet. The next day, Uncle Petyr took me to a courthouse. Ramsay and Roose were already there, a marriage certificate already filled out, and before I could catch my breath, I was Mrs. Sansa Bolton.” 

“Little bird…” 

“That’s why I didn’t want your help. Why I didn’t accept your money. I don’t want to owe you, I don’t want you to have something on me, I don’t want you to have a favor to call in that I can’t say no to.” 

“I won’t.” He shook his head. “I’d never.” 

“That’s why I reacted strongly this morning. It was little things, but you were telling me what to do. Telling me I was wrong. Overstepping, and not listening, and I panicked.” 

Sandor raked his hands down his face, then motioned to the couch. 

“Sit with me?” He asked, moving across the room and flopping down at one end. 

Sansa followed him, perching on the other side. Sandor was staring at the opposite wall, seemingly lost in thought. Sansa stayed quiet, letting him think. After a few minutes, he sighed and turned back to her, sadness in his eyes. 

“You never told me.” He said softly. 

“There’s a lot of things I never told you.” She replied. 

He looked away. 

“You were right about one thing, though.” Sansa said quietly. Sandor turned back to her. “My lawyer said I should keep dancing. He said that stopping now will show Ramsay that I’m afraid, and will show the courts that I think dancing is wrong but I was doing it anyway. But… you can’t come there anymore.” 

Sandor’s brow furrowed. “Why not?” 

“You can’t be a friend and a client. I can’t stay with you here, and accept your money there. We’re the only ones that know what happened in that hotel room, and we’re the only ones who can know.” She replied quietly. 

“You’re staying here?” He sounded calm but she saw the hope flash across his eyes. 

“Yes…” Sansa nodded slowly. “If that’s okay with you.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she quickly continued. “Because after today, you and I are just friends.” 

His mouth snapped shut. She stayed quiet again while he thought, watching the tic in his jaw. 

“Why?” He asked finally. 

“Because you have a quick temper and I take everything personally.” Sansa replied calmly. Sandor flinched like he’d been slapped. “I can’t be in something this complicated right now. Not while I’m fighting for my daughter. Maybe not ever.” 

Sandor leaned back into the couch, turning his gaze back to the wall again. 

“With that being said…” Sansa continued after a moment, “if you’d like me to find somewhere else to stay, if you’d like to take back your offer to pay for my lawyer… I’d completely understand. And there would be no hard feelings.” 

He nodded once, still looking at the wall. Sansa fell silent, waiting. She could practically feel the thoughts running through his head, though she had no idea what they might be. She was about to get up, to leave again and give him time, when he finally spoke. 

“What about today?” He asked softly. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You said after today we’re just friends. So what about today?” He turned his gaze back to her, and Sansa felt her stomach flip with excitement at the look in his eyes. She’d seen that look before. 

“Sandor…” She whispered, shaking her head. 

He moved swiftly, scooting closer to her on the couch and taking her hands. 

“It’s only 5 o’clock.” He whispered, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. Her skin felt like it lit on fire where he touched it. “We have seven hours until after today.” He brushed an equally soft kiss to her other hand, and she shivered. “Can we make the most of them?” 

Sansa’s heart was pounding in her chest, warmth spreading through her and pooling low in her belly as her breath quickened. Time slowed as she looked into Sandor’s molten silver eyes, and then she nodded once. 

He grinned, then leaned forward and kissed her, dropping her hands in favor of cupping her face. Sansa moaned softly at the contact, then threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. He groaned into her mouth and moved his hands to her hips, pushing them beneath her ass and scooping her into his lap so she straddled him. She squealed and giggled, breaking the kiss. He grinned at her again, then leaned forward and caught her lips with his again, running his hands up and down the tops of her thighs. 

He broke away from her mouth, kissing a hot trail down her neck. She moaned and tipped her head back, allowing him better access. He kissed down to her collarbone, then licked back up to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sucking softly. She shivered at the cold air on the path left by his tongue, and she felt him smile against her shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” He asked suddenly, breaking away and looking up at her face. “After Ra-- after what happened. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t hurt me.” She whispered back, pressing another kiss against his mouth. 

He groaned, his hands moving up to her waist. “No, little bird. I won’t hurt you.” 

He rose to his feet, lifting her with him, and her legs wrapped automatically around his waist. He kissed her soundly as he walked back to his bedroom, holding her weight with one arm as the other felt his way down the hall. 

He dropped her onto the bed and she bounced slightly. They were still for a moment, staring at each other. Then he climbed onto the bed, parting her legs as he leaned over her. They continued kissing, and Sansa ran her hands down his body. She pushed her hands beneath his t-shirt, feeling her way back up his abs. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, leaving her hands free to roam. He hissed when she raked her nails down his shoulder blades. 

“Fuck, little bird…” He whispered against her lips. 

He sat back on his heels, with her legs still hooked around his hips. He reached for the buttons of her shirt and deftly undid them. She pushed herself up and removed the shirt, and he tossed that away as well, leaning back over her and kissing hot trails over her chest as his hands slid beneath her to unhook her bra. 

She gasped and moaned as Sandor’s mouth closed around one of her nipples. He sucked it gently, and she wrapped her arms around his head, holding him against her. 

“Oh Sandor…” She moaned, arching her back. 

He pulled back again, this time reaching for the button of her jeans. She lifted her hips and shimmied to help him remove them, and her panties quickly followed. He held her underwear to his face, his eyes slipping shut as he inhaled deeply. Sansa gasped, feeling the heat in her belly contract and send a jolt straight between her legs. What was it about this hulking, angry, brute of a man that made her body sing? Everything he did made her want him even more, she ached for him, felt empty without him, missed him every second that she spent away. 

She’d never thought herself particularly kinky, and she’d hated going out of her comfort zone with Joff and Ramsay; they’d always used it as an excuse to hurt her in some new way. But Sandor? Gods, he made her want to do everything he asked, from making her come while he intently stared at her face, to fucking in front of a mirror. Anxiety stole the breath from her lungs as she realized the power he had over her. Power she never meant to give him. Power he could use to hurt her, if he ever wanted to. 

His eyes opened and were nearly black with arousal as he gazed down at her. All her worries vanished as she stared back at him. 

_“You won’t hurt me.”_

_“No, little bird. I won’t hurt you.”_

She reached for his belt buckle, quickly opening it and shoving his jeans down his hips. He shoved her panties into his pocket with a wicked grin before he pushed his pants and boxers off, and she gasped. 

He leaned back down over her body, whispering in her ear, “I’m keeping those, little bird.” 

She moaned, squeezing her thighs around him and pulling him down for another kiss. He chuckled against her lips before opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. He rocked his hips against her, the tip of his cock brushing against her clit. Sansa groaned, lifting her hips to meet his. 

Sandor kissed a trail down her face, one hand coming up to grasp her jaw and turn her face away from him to give him better access to the sensitive skin of her neck. She mewled as he nipped her, then soothed the sting with his tongue. 

“Sandor…” She whispered his name again as his mouth travelled farther down, to her collarbone. He ran his tongue along the hollow above her clavicle, then he kissed her shoulder. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he groaned. “Gods, little bird, if you only fucking knew…” 

She wrapped her arms around his middle, her fingernails sinking back into his shoulder blades as his mouth moved back to the hollow at the base of her neck. He traced it with his tongue, sucking softly and eliciting another whimper, before moving lower, back to her breasts. 

He flattened his tongue as he licked her nipple again, sending shocks of arousal straight between her legs. She whined as he flicked her nipple with his tongue, then moved one hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, pushing him closer to her chest. He breathed another chuckle, then closed his twisted lips around the hardening bud, sucking it and worrying it with his teeth as she thrashed and moaned and arched her back. He moved his hand to push her breast up, taking the flesh into his mouth and dragging his teeth along her skin. Sansa gasped as he released her nipple from between his teeth, and he quickly soothed the sting with soft kisses, then moved to her other breast, bestowing the same attention. 

Sandor groaned against her chest, snaking his arms beneath her and holding her body flush against his. He leaned his forehead to the valley between her breasts, breathing heavily. Sansa ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down and tugging gently at his roots. The position was so intimate, perhaps more intimate than anything she’d ever done. His ragged breathing against her sweat-dampened skin was electrifying, his bulk pressing her into the mattress but not crushing her was thrilling, the weight of his hard cock against her made her want to scream, but she realized at that moment that she held as much power over him as he did over her. 

He raised his eyes and looked at her, their gazes locking. She cupped his cheek and he leaned into her hand, his eyes slipping shut as his breath caught. 

“Little bird… after today… I just…” 

She silenced him with another kiss, stroking his good cheek with the tips of her fingers as she pulled back to answer him. 

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow.” She kissed him again. “Please, Sandor… Make today count.” 

He groaned softly as he reached between them and wrapped his fingers around his cock. He shifted against her to line himself up, and pushed into her in one smooth, slow motion that made them both moan. Sandor settled between Sansa’s legs, both of them breathing heavily. Sandor pushed a few stray hairs off her face, keeping his hand against her skin. 

“Sansa…” He whispered, staring down at her with something like awe or wonder behind his eyes. “ I lo-” 

“Don’t.” Sansa put her fingers against his lips. “Please don’t. Please don’t say it.” 

He ducked his head down to press a kiss just beneath her ear. “But Sansa… I do.” 

“I know.” She whispered, her voice breaking. Her hands came back to his hair, stroking gently as he pressed his face into her shoulder. “I know. But please don’t say it.” 

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. 

“Don’t say it.” She repeated, cupping his jaw. “Show me.”

He pressed his mouth to hers as he slowly began to move, pulling out of her agonizingly slow, then pressing back in with the same restraint. They both moaned as he moved, and he took the opportunity to deepen their kiss.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close against her as he thrust into her, slowly, lovingly, both of them moaning softly in each other's ears. 

“Sansa…” 

“Sandor…” 

“Little bird…” 

“Don’t say it.” 

He groaned against her ear, his tempo increasing slightly. Sansa hooked her feet around the back of his knees and he groaned again. He kept his body close against hers as he moved, and gave no indication he intended to speed up or change position any time soon. 

“Sandor, please...” Sansa keened, her back arching as she tried to grind herself down into him. 

He pushed himself up, hooking his elbows under the back of her knees, then planted his hands back on either side of her. He sped up, but only slightly, and she cried out on every thrust as his cock rubbed against her walls in the most delicious way. 

“Please what?” He rasped, looking amused even as his face was contorted with arousal and restraint. 

“Please… please…” 

“Please what?” He repeated, moving his arms slightly to spread her legs wider, making his thrusts impossibly deeper. 

Sansa cried out and arched her back, grinding down on him as she whined and moaned. When she didn’t respond verbally, he grabbed her jaw again, pushing her knee against her chest and forcing her to look at him. 

“Please what?” He repeated, dangerously low. 

“Please don’t stop.” Sansa breathed. 

Sandor flashed a satisfied grin as his pace increased again, holding her steady by her jaw as he leaned his forehead against hers. 

“I won’t stop, baby.” He whispered. “I won’t stop. I’ll never stop.” 

“Ahh!” Sansa threw her head back, writhing beneath him as her climax built. “Don’t stop!” She cried. “Don’t stop! Sandor! Please don’t stop!” 

“I won’t stop.” He breathed against her ear as her climax wracked her body. She clung to him, bucking her hips, writhing desperately beneath him. 

She panted as she came down from her release, breathing hard and clutching Sandor’s shoulders. He eased her legs back down so her feet were planted once more on the bed.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, pushing loose hairs behind her ear as his thrusts slowed back to their agonizingly slow pace. 

“I’m okay.” Sansa gasped. “I’m okay.” 

“Good.” Sandor kissed her fiercely. “Because I’m not near finished with you yet.” 

Sansa moaned deep in her throat as Sandor gathered her into his arms and pumped hard into her. He sat back on his heels, dragging her with him, so she straddled his thighs as he thrust into her relentlessly. 

“Gods, little bird…” He groaned, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head, the other wrapping around her waist to hold her against him. “Fuck! Fuck! Oh! Sansa…” 

“Sandor…” She whined, clinging on to his shoulders as he fucked into her. She was lost to him in that moment, she was his, and she would’ve said anything as long as he _just didn’t stop._

“Sansa! Gods, you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect. You’re… you… fuck!” 

She clung to him for dear life as she felt his body stiffen, coil, and release into her. He groaned his release into her shoulder, squeezing his arms to hold her against him as he twitched and jerked. 

His body finally began to still, his arms still clenched around her middle, his hips stuttering against hers as he rode out his peak. One of his huge hands cupped the back of her head, holding her tight against him as he caught his breath. 

“Sandor…” She whispered into his neck. “Gods, Sandor…” 

He withdrew from her embrace, looking into her eyes. 

“Little bird.” He whispered, stroking his hand down the side of her face. “I… I can’t-” 

“Yes you can.” Sansa whispered, clutching his face and pressing a kiss to his mouth. “You can. So don’t. Don’t say it.” 

Sandor sat there, supporting her weight with an arm around her waist, breathing hard. He gazed into her eyes as she felt his cock soften inside of her. 

“Sansa… I can’t do it. I lov-” 

“Shh.” She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Don’t say it.” 

His head dropped, his forehead resting against her shoulder as she clung on to him. 

“I know, baby.” She whispered, raking her fingers through his hair. “I know. You don’t have to say it. I know.” 

Sandor lifted his head from her shoulder and cupped her face. Sansa pushed her weight up, supporting herself on Sandor’s shoulders as his cock slipped out of her. He released a soft noise, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, and she settled back into his lap. 

“You don’t know what you do to me, Sansa.” Sandor whispered, running his knuckles down her cheek. 

“Hush…” Sansa whispered, cupping Sandor’s face and pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “Shh…” 

Sandor held her carefully against him as he laid down and settled into the bed. They faced each other on their sides, a sweaty tangle of limbs, both still breathing hard. Sansa closed her eyes and snuggled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his middle. He adjusted his hold on her, enveloping her in his strong arms. She couldn't deny that she felt unbelievably safe and loved when he held her like that, and she wished for the umpteenth time that day that Ramsay hadn’t shown up and spoiled everything. She would have experienced being held like this every night for the foreseeable future. She wouldn’t have to bare her soul before Sandor, and Smalljon Umber, and a yet unknown judge. Everything she’d dared to imagine for her future was on hold because of him. 

“I can hear you thinking…” Sandor murmured into her hair. 

Sansa smiled slightly and felt a pang of affection; Arya said the same thing. 

“He ruined everything.” Sansa whispered. 

Sandor pulled back from her slightly and moved one arm to crook his finger under her chin so she’d look up at him. 

“Don’t think about him tonight.” Sandor instructed in his raspy, gravelly voice. The unburnt corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile, and his eyes sparkled slightly as he spoke again. “If I’m not allowed to worry about what’s to come after tonight, neither are you.” 

The tension in the room broke as Sansa tipped her head back and laughed. Sandor chuckled too, moving his hand from beneath her chin to brush her hair back and cup the side of her head. 

“Fine,” Sansa agreed, smiling even as she shook her head slightly. “Agreed. I won’t think about any of that yet.” 

“Good.” 

He pulled her in for a kiss, gentler than his others this night. She hummed contentedly against him, throwing her thigh over his to pull herself closer. He chuckled, breaking the kiss. 

“You’re going to have to give me a minute, little bird.” He said, eyes twinkling with mirth. “I’m not as young as I once was, can’t go again that quick.” 

Sansa blushed and ducked her head as Sandor laughed softly again. She hadn’t really been thinking about how the movement would bring their still naked lower halves closer when she moved. 

“So pretty when you blush…” Sandor observed softly. 

He kissed the tip of her nose when she lifted her face in surprise at his words, which in turn made her even redder. He kissed her mouth again, pushing the embarrassment from her mind as she moulded to him. 

“So what are the ground rules, once we’re just friends?” He asked suddenly. 

“We can talk about that-” 

“Tomorrow, yes. But… I have questions for you. And I need to know whether I need to ask them tonight, or wait until tomorrow.” 

She hesitated. “What kind of questions?” 

“Last time I saw you at Lost Ones, I asked you to tell me who you were.” He said softly. 

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. He just gazed at her soundly. 

“That wasn’t a question.” She whispered after an uncomfortable silence. 

“Were you going to?” 

“Yes.” She answered at once. “I was going to tell you that day, actually.” 

His face fell slightly, and she hurriedly kissed him again. His hand squeezed her waist, which she took as a signal that he wanted her to keep talking. 

“I stressed about how to do it, what to wear, tried to imagine what you’d say and how you’d respond.” She smiled softly. 

“How were you going to do it?” He asked quietly. 

“I was going to come to your office.” She replied, pushing her fingers absentmindedly through the hair on his chest. “And just say that I decided to tell you who I am.” 

“Don’t know if I would’ve understood.” He chuckled softly. 

“No?” 

“No. I thought you were… At the hospital, I thought you were afraid of me.” Sandor fixed his gaze firmly on the piece of her hair he was threading through his fingers. 

“Why would I be afraid?” She frowned. 

“Lots of people are.” He shrugged halfheartedly. “You never looked me in the eye, always knocking things over, or running away.” 

Guilt hit Sansa like a blow to the gut. 

“You made me very flustered.” She whispered, leaning in close to place a few soft kisses on his neck as she spoke. “I was afraid you’d recognize me, but I was never afraid of you.” 

He hummed softly, giving her a gentle squeeze in place of a response. They lapsed into silence for a few moments, just holding each other, but she could tell he had more to say. 

“That’s why I called you a whore.” He whispered, barely audible. Sansa stiffened, and Sandor ran his fingers lightly up and down her spine. “I didn’t think that both of you could be real, genuine. I knew two versions of you, and I thought one of you must be fake, completely invented.” 

Sansa pulled back to look into his eyes, and her heart broke at the devastation she saw there. The vulnerability. 

“Everything I’ve been through,” his gaze dropped as he continued in that same whisper, “Instinct told me that the real you was the one that was scared…. disgusted. That the other you must be fake, that your only interest was in money, that you didn’t mean any of it. That both versions of you were scared and disgusted, and I was an idiot and fell for it.” 

He lifted his gaze to her again, and she saw tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Her own eyes were beginning to prickle, and she cupped his cheek, making sure it was the scarred side. His eyes slipped closed at her touch, and he bowed his head forward, placing his hand over hers as his shoulders began to tremble. She wrapped her other arm around his neck, pulling herself against him. She used the hand on his cheek to guide his face into the crook of her neck, then wrapped that arm around him as well, holding him there as he choked out a sob. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her hold him close. She raked her fingers through his hair and hushed him softly as her tears began to spill over as well. 

“I’m sorry.” He croaked against her neck. “I’m so fucking sorry.” 

She held him tighter, not trusting her voice to respond. He’d hurt her with that comment, he’d broken something between them. But she’d forgotten until this moment that he had a past as tumultuous as hers, that he was as broken as her. Yet another reminder how much needed to change with each of them before she could ever consider a relationship with him. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered again as the shaking of his shoulders began to subside. He lifted his head from the crook of her neck and met her watery gaze. “I’d give anything to take it back. Can you forgive me?” 

“I can.” Sansa whispered, using her thumb to brush tears from beneath his eye. “But I haven’t. Not yet.” 

He tried to hide his crestfallen expression by ducking his head, but she saw it clearly. 

“You meant it.” She whispered, continuing to pull her fingers through his hair. “When you said it, you meant it. You meant to hurt me, and you succeeded. Even if I understand why you did, I just…. I can’t forgive it just like that.” 

He nodded slowly. “I understand.” He whispered. 

They fell into another silence, and when he finally looked up at her, she kissed him. He let out a soft moan into her mouth, opening his lips to deepen the kiss. One of his hands found its way to the back of her head, and held her against him. She wrapped her arms around him, keeping their bodies close together, and his hands dropped down to her waist. He rolled onto his back and pulled her with him, so she was sprawled across his chest. She giggled as she anchored herself, with one knee on either side of his hips. 

She ground herself down experimentally and gasped when she felt him hard between her legs. She looked at him and found him smirking slightly as his hands ran down her sides to her hips. She grinned back at him, and reached behind her to grasp the base of his cock. She held him steady as she pushed back on his length, moaning softly as she impaled herself. His muscled stomach tensed and flexed beneath her hands as she pushed lower, until he was completely enveloped in her cunt. 

They both released a long shaky breath, and Sansa looked back at his face. He was smiling softly up at her, with a look she’d never seen on his face before. The hard, angry lines of his face were relaxed, and she barely even registered the marred half of his face. It was just what he looked like at this point, nothing shocking or scary or disgusting about it, no matter what he might think. 

It was just Sandor. 

She rolled her hips, eliciting a deep groan from his chest that made her smile. His huge, strong hands gripped the back of her thighs, and she felt a confidence boosting surge of power, the realization that he would lie there beneath her and let her be in charge making her almost giddy. 

She planted her hands firmly on his stomach and began to ride him, slowly at first, then faster and faster until her thighs burned. The angle she was at allowed her to grind her clit down on him with every movement and it was driving her insane, her climax building deep within her. 

“Sandor…” She whined, as her legs began to tremble with exertion. 

“Don’t you dare stop, woman.” he growled up at her, his hands tightening on her thighs. 

“I can’t…” she moaned, throwing her head back and clenching her nails into his flesh. “Please, Sandor, I can’t.” 

He growled again and seized her hips, taking over her motions and letting her legs relax slightly. She collapsed forward, bracing her forearms on his chest as he thrusted up into her and guided her hips down to meet him at a relentless pace. She was crying out loudly, her cunt fluttering and squeezing down on him, and she was close. So, so close. 

She inhaled sharply, back arching and head thrown back as she reached her peak. She ground herself against him relentlessly as she rode out her climax, black spots appearing in her vision. Her nails were squeezing down on Sandor’s flesh so hard she might’ve drawn blood, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. 

Sandor flipped them over again, pressing her down into the mattress as he pounded relentlessly into her. She wasn’t quite sure if she had a second orgasm or if the first one just carried on far longer than normal. He crashed his mouth against hers desperately, and she seized his biceps, clinging onto him as he moved within her and wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body. 

Sooner than she would’ve liked, he tore his mouth from hers and withdrew his cock from her. She let out an undignified whine as her hips lifted to chase him, and he chuckled smugly. 

“My horny little bird.” He whispered against her mouth, pressing another firm kiss to her lips before he vanished, slinking down her body. 

A mere second later, he had her thighs over his shoulders, hands holding her firmly in place, as he pressed his face into the apex of her thighs and began to lick and suckle at her relentlessly. Sansa’s hands flew to the back of his head, her fingers twisting in his hair as her back arched high off the bed with a shriek of pleasure. 

Still unsure whether she was having repeated orgasms, or the longest orgasm of her life due to his continued ministrations, she tightened her hold on his hair and bucked her hips against him, shaking and trembling and completely at his mercy. She knew words were spilling from her mouth, begging him to continue, but had no idea whether she was saying anything clear enough for him to understand. 

Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more without blacking out, he thrust two fingers deep into her cunt. Her hips actually lifted off the bed now as she screamed her pleasure, and she felt him moan against her as he greedily drank down her arousal. Her hips fell back to the bed as she panted, shaking with the intensity of her release. He shifted slightly, and pulled his fingers back from her heat and took his mouth off her clit at the same time. 

“Gods, Sandor.” She panted, her hips and thighs jerking about uncontrollably as she tried to ease her hold on his hair. 

He panted against her for a moment, his hot breath on her clit almost enough to send her into another frenzy. She raised her head to look down at him, and found his eyes still dark with arousal. She shivered as she met his gaze, and he smirked. 

“Can you take more?” He asked softly, turning his head to kiss a soft trail up the inside of her thigh. 

“M-more?” Sansa stuttered, slightly alarmed. 

He smiled against her thigh. 

“I could stay right here feasting on your cunt for the rest of my life and die a happy man.” He said seriously, his eyes piercing her as he turned his gaze back to her face. 

She shivered again, her entire body squirming at the very idea. Her limbs were jelly at this point, her clit oversensitive yet still yearning for stimulation. 

“Can you take more?” He asked again, his arm wrapping around her thigh again. He planted his hand against the soft flesh of her belly below her navel, just above where she needed him the most. 

“I think so.” She whispered shakily, moving her hands from his hair to the sheets. 

He flashed a wicked grin at her, and slid the hand in her belly lower until his thumb touched her clit. She gasped and bucked her hips, and she felt him chuckle again. His thumb went to work, rubbing her clit firmly but slowly back and forth as he started tonguing her slit. Her hands twisted in the sheets as she let out a high pitched whine. She tried to squeeze her thighs together but his hands held them firmly apart. 

His thumb sped up as he pushed his tongue into her opening and she felt a surge of arousal, making her impossibly wetter. Just seconds later she felt another orgasm wrack her body, making her hips buck up against him as she cried out his name. He hummed against her, seeming satisfied in some way. 

She trembled and moaned as the waves of pleasure ebated, even as Sandor withdrew from between her legs and crawled back up the bed. He laid on his side next to her, propped up on one elbow. He dragged his knuckles down her cheek, then pushed a few stray hairs off her sweaty face. Sansa hummed contentedly, eyes slipping closed. 

“Sandor… that was…” She whispered breathlessly, opening her eyes and turning her face towards him. 

“Are you alright?” He asked gently, cupping her cheek and tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. 

“Mmm.” She hummed again, leaning into Sandor’s hand. 

He chuckled and ran his hand, featherlight, down to her waist. He gave her waist a gentle tug, pulling her so her back was against his chest. She gasped when she felt his arousal pressing against her ass, rotating her hips slightly to feel it. Sandor groaned, dropping his face into the crook of her neck and nibbling her sensitive skin. 

“Is this okay?” He murmured in her ear, lifting her thigh and pulling her leg back over his. 

“Yes.” She breathed, shimmying closer against his chest. 

“Gods, you really are fucking perfect.” He groaned as he sheathed his cock back into her. 

Sansa moaned loudly, tipping her head back as he bottomed out inside her. She was already panting again, still feeling the aftershocks of her previous peaks, as Sandor began to slowly thrust in and out of her. She twisted her arm back, clutching his hip and trying to push him harder against her. He kept his movements steady, and trailed his hand slowly up her body from her thigh to her chin, grasping it gently between his thumb and forefinger and turning her face up to him. Her breath caught when their eyes met, and his hand moved slowly to cup her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her. His moves were gentle, yet firm and purposeful. 

She whimpered into his mouth as her pleasure built, and she moved her hand from his hip to slide it between her own legs. His hand disappeared from her face and caught her wrist before she could touch herself, and she made a sound like a disappointed whine. Sandor broke the kiss with a breathless chuckle. 

“I want you to come from just my cock.” He breathed, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Can you do that?” 

She felt herself getting wetter at his words, and his smirk told her he felt it too. She nodded, unable to find the words, and he smiled before pressing his mouth back to hers. He twined his fingers through hers and brought both their arms up to wrap firmly around her, just beneath her breasts. She was once again completely at his mercy, all she could do was pant and moan and squirm against him. 

Just moments later she felt heat gathering low in her belly and her moans grew louder. She was desperately trying to grind back against Sandor. He moved his hand again, back down to her thigh. He wrapped his hand around the back of her leg and held it up higher, pushing her knee towards her chest. His thrusts sped up, and he was panting into her neck. 

“Come on, little bird. Come for me.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. 

His voice tipped her over the edge and she shook against him as she peaked, her hands fisting into the sheets as she moaned his name. He made a satisfied noise against her skin and rolled them over, pressing her chest into the bed. He threaded his fingers through hers and lifted his chest off her back, holding her hands against the mattress. He kept his weight off her back, and thrusted hard and fast into her, finally chasing his own peak. Sansa was still shaking with the aftershocks of her most recent orgasm, and moaning softly as he moved in her overly sensitive cunt. 

His hips stuttered against her and he let out a long groan as he came. He leaned against her for a moment, catching his breath but still keeping his full weight off her. Then he slowly pulled his softening cock from her warmth and collapsed to the side. 

Sansa folded her arms beneath her and rested her cheek against them, facing Sandor. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling rapidly. His unscarred side faced her, and her eyes traced his features. It really was bizarre to her now that she used to be so intimidated by him. She’d never been scared, that much was certain, but he’d been unnerving, and occasionally mean. All of that was gone now. He was just Sandor, tall and imposing but secretly gentle. 

He opened his eyes after a few moments and turned his face towards her, lifting one hand to run a knuckle down her cheek. 

“We could always be friends with benefits?” He suggested playfully, smirking slightly. 

Sansa giggled and slapped his chest gently. He grinned and pulled her towards him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she curled into his side, throwing one arm across his chest and laying her head in the crook of his neck. 

“I’ll miss you.” He said softly, gently running his hand up and down her arm. 

“I know.” She murmured. “I’ll miss you too.” 

She lifted her head and they shared a gentle kiss, then settled back into his arms. He sighed softly and wrapped his other arm around her as well, holding her against him. 

After a few minutes, Sandor’s breathing slowed and evened out, indicating he’d fallen asleep. Sansa stayed where she was a moment longer, then carefully extricated herself from Sandor’s arms. She slid off the bed and began looking for clothes, finding Sandor’s t-shirt easily. She blushed when she remembered Sandor had pocketed her underwear earlier, and considered for a moment before deciding not to steal them back. 

She went to the bathroom to clean up, and almost laughed out loud at how rumpled she looked. She turned on the shower, deeming that the quickest way to clean the mixture of fluids between her thighs. She braided her wet hair and put Sandor’s t-shirt back on, then went to her bag in the living room for fresh underwear. Her phone buzzed while she dug through the bag, and she quickly answered it when she saw it was Arya. 

“Hello?” 

“Seven fucking hells, woman! Could you _please_ make a habit of answering your phone when your psycho stalker ex is in town?” Arya growled at her. 

“Sorry.” Sansa said sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Arya. I was… in bed.” 

“With Dr. Scarface?” Arya asked interestedly, all frustration dropping from her voice.

Sansa sighed and sat on the couch. “Yes.” No point in lying anymore. 

“What happened with him? Did you make up?” 

“Sort of.” 

Arya sighed dramatically. “Nevermind him, how was the lawyer?” 

“Good.” Sansa answered, pulling her knees to her chest. “Really good. He thinks if we approach Ramsay’s father from a political standpoint, we might be able to avoid going to court.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

“How’s Lyanna?” 

“She’s having the time of her life. She and Robb can’t get enough of each other.” Arya replied. “She’s asleep, but we’ll facetime tomorrow, around lunchtime.” 

“Thank you.” Sansa whispered. 

“So are you going to tell me about Dr. Scarface or what?” Arya asked. 

There was a creak of floorboards in the hallway, and Sansa looked up to see Sandor lean against the doorframe and cross his arms, watching her curiously. 

“There’s nothing to tell.” Sansa replied, eyes raking up and down Sandor’s boxer-clad body. “We’re just friends.” 

Sandor smirked and pushed off the wall, extending one hand to her. 

“I have to go, Arya. I need to get some sleep.” 

“Sure you do.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes and ended the call, then stood and accepted Sandor’s outstretched hand. He pulled her into him, wrapping her in his arms as he kissed her. 

“You sure you don’t want to sleep on the couch, friend?” He asked, smiling slightly. 

“It’s not midnight yet, friend.” She replied in the same teasing tone he used. 

He grinned, and pulled her down the hall back to his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend everyone! I hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think!


	24. Chapter 24

Gods, it felt good to fucking laugh. Sansa’s face was buried in her hands as she howled with laughter at Arya’s imitation of Robb cooing over Lyanna. She sat on the floor in front of Sandor’s couch, with her iPad propped up on the coffee table. Arya and Jon were on facetime with her, and Jon was laughing nearly as hard as Sansa.

“Arya, you’re horrible!” Sansa choked out between giggles. 

“I can’t make my eyes quite as big as Robb’s go.” Arya said, succumbing to her own laughter and clutching her sides. 

“I’m gonna need some video evidence.” Jon said, still chuckling as he lifted a glass to his lips. 

“I’m trying, I really am.” Arya said, picking up her phone. “He notices me every time and stops.” 

“I’m so glad Lyanna’s having so much fun.” Sansa said, taking a sip of wine. “How are things up north, Jon?” 

“Going well.” Jon bobbed his head. “I’m almost completely certain using Yig as a decoy worked; I think Ramsay followed us. 

Sansa swallowed heavily. As relieved as she was that she could stop looking over her shoulder quite so much, she was desperately worried that Ygritte would get hurt. 

“Don’t you start, Sans.” Jon said, pointing sternly at the camera. “I’m looking after her.” 

“Oh yes, looking after ‘Yig,’ are we?” Arya waggled her eyebrows suggestively and Jon blushed. 

“Are you?!” Sansa squealed, clapping excitedly. 

“I’m not…” Jon stammered, raking his fingers through his hair. 

“You are!” Sansa exclaimed. 

“Did you manage to keep it in your pants all the way to the wall?” Arya asked, stifling laughter again. “Or did you finally make use of that backseat?” 

Sansa threw her head back and laughed as Jon ducked his head and stammered, waving his hands. Arya started making kissing noises and Jon turned impossibly redder. 

“Yig and I haven’t…” Jon started, and then the woman herself flopped onto the couch next to Jon. 

“They found us out, Jonny Boy!” Ygritte said, ruffling Jon’s hair. “What would you like to know, ladies?” 

“No! I don’t want to know!” Sansa squealed, clapping her hands over her ears as Arya roared with laughter. 

Ygritte was laughing as well, but Jon still looked mortified. 

“Enough about us,” Ygritte said, waving a dismissive hand. “Tell us about you and the big man, Sansa.” 

Sansa’s laughing stopped and it was her turn to flush. She glanced at the front door; Sandor wasn’t home yet, but he was due any time. 

“There’s nothing to tell.” Sansa said, pouring more wine into her glass. “We’re just friends until after everything with Ramsay is sorted, and then we’ll talk about it.” 

“You’re long past talking about it, mate.” Ygritte said, plucking Jon’s glass from his hand and taking a long drink. “You just gotta fuck it out.” 

Sansa choked on her wine. 

“I’m sorry?” She spluttered. 

“Fuck it out.” Ygritte repeated. “You know, just fuck over and over until all the bullshit is behind you.” 

There was a tense silence, and then Arya burst out laughing again. Jon was blushing again, and pointedly looking away from his tablet. Sansa opened her mouth and closed it several times before she could find her voice. 

“This is a little bit more complicated than-” 

“It’s only as complicated as you make it. Remember that.” Ygritte said sagely, then took another long drink. 

Arya was smirking into her own wine glass, Jon was staring adoringly at Ygritte, and Ygritte and Sansa were holding each other's gaze. 

“It’s complicated.” Sansa repeated after a long, awkward silence. 

Ygritte snorted. 

“How was the second meeting with the lawyer?” Arya interjected. 

“It was… fine.” Sansa said slowly. 

Arya quirked an eyebrow. Sansa released a forceful sigh and took a long drink of wine. 

“I have to go through all my old journals and make copies of anything I wrote relating to Ramsay, I have to get someone to take pictures of the scars on my back, Smalljon wants me to have lunch with Walda Bolton tomorrow, I have the find a new apartment-” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Arya cut her off. “He wants you to meet with Walda Bolton? Ramsay’s step-mum?” 

“Yes. He thinks that in case Roose wants to be stubborn, I should try to get Walda on my side ahead of time. He thinks if she stands with me, Roose will fall in line.” Sansa replied. 

“And you’re comfortable meeting with her?” Jon asked, brows furrowed with concern. 

“Yes, I am. She was always sweet to me and Lyanna.” Sansa assured her cousin. “And Bronn will be with me.” 

Jon nodded once. “Just don’t let your guard down because we think Ramsay is tailing us up here. There’s probably still someone keeping an eye out for you.” 

“I know.” Sansa nodded. “I’m watching my back and being safe, Jon. I promise.”

“I still don’t like the idea of you working at the club tomorrow night.” Jon grimaced. “I’m certain he’ll have someone there watching for you, and you need a few more days to get things in order before Ramsay realizes he’s been trailing the wrong girl.” 

Sansa leaned back against the couch, chewing on her lower lip. 

“Jon’s right.” Arya chimed in. “Just wait until next weekend. See what happens at the meeting with Roose on Monday, at least, before you go back.” 

Sansa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“We just want you safe, Sans.” Jon added. 

“Fine.” Sansa sighed again. “I just… what the hell am I going to do here, alone with Sandor, on a Saturday night? It’s going to be so awkward.” 

“You could always…” Ygritte trailed off suggestively, waggling her eyebrows. 

“Stop.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “Oh, and I found the card from the Brother that spoke to me at the hospital. I made an appointment to see him at his practise, so you both can stop worrying about that.” 

“Good!” Arya nodded enthusiastically and lifted her glass in a toast. 

“Proud of you, San.” Jon lifted his glass as well. 

“It’s just therapy…” Sansa mumbled, blushing. 

Jon and Arya both rolled their eyes and shook their heads, and Sansa shifted uncomfortably. She’d resisted seeking treatment for the first several months she’d been at the wall with Jon, which left her a shaky, jumpy, anxious mess. She knew that they’d be worried she’d do the same thing again, which was the only reason she brought it up now. 

“So are you meeting with Umber again before the Bolton’s?” Arya asked, and Sansa breathed a small sigh of relief for the change of subject. 

“I’m meeting Walda tomorrow, then going to Umber’s first thing in the morning Monday to compile everything and go over our talking points. Then the Bolton’s will be there at 2pm.” Sansa replied. 

“Make sure you record this meeting with Walda.” Arya said after a moment, and Jon nodded his agreement. 

“Can’t be too careful with that lot.” Jon added. 

“Agreed.” Sansa said, taking another drink of wine. 

“How are you getting around? Bronn is taking you everywhere?” Arya asked. “We never went back to your apartment for your car.” 

Sansa blushed hard. “Sandor rented a car for me.” 

Ygritte made an interested noise, but Jon waved her down. 

“But Bronn is still looking after you, right?” He asked. 

“Yes, he is. But we thought it might be a bit more subtle if he can hang back. Plus the Bolton’s won’t think I’m sleeping with him, too.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes to hide how concerned she was that Ramsay would play the ‘slut’ card and win. It was already bad enough that she was a stripper and had a complicated relationship with Sandor, they didn’t need to see her affiliated with any more men than strictly necessary. 

“Robb should be there in time to meet the Bolton’s.” Arya said casually. 

“Arya! I told him no! I told him he doesn’t need to come!” Sansa objected. 

“You were overruled.” Arya gave her a stern look. “This is all hands on deck, sister. You need family there for moral support.” 

Sansa sighed. Plane tickets from Volantis to Winter Town were outrageously expensive, and she’d already had to accept Sandor footing the bill to get Arya, Gendry, and Lyanna to Volantis, let alone getting them back. She couldn’t afford another plane ticket. 

“Stop making that face, Sansa.” Arya chided. “Robb is coming and that’s final.” 

“You sound like dad.” Sansa replied, crossing her arms. 

Arya flashed a proud grin. Sansa couldn’t help but be proud of her little sister for how much she had grown up these last few years. She was still feisty as ever, but Sansa was glad to see what she was leaving behind the party hard phase. 

She heard the key in the lock, and whipped her head around in time to see Sandor swing the door open. Her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of him, both relieved that he wasn’t an intruder, and nervous to have to be normal with him. 

“Hi, Sandor!” She chirped with a broad smile. 

He grunted and nodded in acknowledgment, closing and locking the door behind him. Sansa hurriedly turned back to her iPad before she could start staring at him. He was wearing a dark red button down with grey slacks today and looked quite dashing. 

“So what are you planning to say to Walda?” Arya asked. 

“I’m not sure entirely, I’m hoping the conversation will just flow naturally.” Sansa said, reaching for her journal and flicking it open. “I’m just going to ask if she ever knew what was going on, explain why I left, and ask her to help me keep Lyanna safe.” 

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Her sister looked unconvinced. 

“I don’t know.” Sansa sighed, rubbing her temple. “I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Sansa said quickly. 

They said their goodbyes, and she quickly ended the call. 

“Brought dinner.” Sandor rasped from behind her. 

Sansa twisted around to look at him. He was coming around the island with two plates, and set one down in front of her. 

“Thanks.” She smiled at him. 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, and he quickly spun away and went back to the kitchen. 

“It’s Bravosi.” He said as he came back and sat on the couch. “Never tried this place before, but I’ve heard good things.” 

“It looks great.” Sansa picked up her knife and fork, and Sandor poured himself some wine and clicked on the TV. 

“So how was your day?” She asked as he turned the volume down and began to click through channels. His eyes flashed to her and he raised one eyebrow in question. “Friends tell friends about their day.” She shrugged. 

He nodded slowly and took a long drink of his wine before he answered. “It was good. The psychologist I partnered with for my research got back to me with his finalized scoring criteria, so we’ll be able to start phase 2 next week.” 

“Sandor, that’s wonderful!” Sansa grinned at him. 

“Still a long way to go before it’s worth anything,” Sandor replied, looking like he was trying not to care. 

Sansa shook her head fondly. He was always so hesitant with showing anyone any emotion at all; like he had a brick wall around him. She knew that Alayne had been slowly chipping away at that wall, but she didn’t know if it was appropriate for her to do so now. 

“Tell me about phase 2, then.” Sansa said, turning towards him as she ate. 

Sandor waved his fork dismissively. “It’s boring. Tell me about your lawyer meeting.” 

Sansa frowned down at her plate. “It was fine.” She said slowly. “I still have a lot to do, and it’s… hard. Thinking about everything with him. I have to lay everything out, all the horrible things he did, and somehow stay calm and collected like he didn’t destroy me.” She lifted her wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid around the bottom. “I can’t come across as hysterical, or I’ll lose everything.” 

Sandor was quiet for a long moment before he responded. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” 

Sansa lifted her eyes, but Sandor was looking back at the TV, apparently not planning on saying anything else. She just watched him for a moment, brow furrowed, waiting for him to continue. He glanced at her, and shook his head when he saw her staring. 

“You got away from him once already. You can do it again.” He shrugged. “You’re meeting someone tomorrow?” 

“Walda. Ramsay’s step-mum.” Sansa said quietly. 

Sandor’s expression darkened. 

“Bronn will be there.” She told him hurriedly. 

He nodded once, and they fell into an awkward silence. Well, awkward for Sansa; Sandor appeared perfectly at ease. She pushed the food around her plate, her appetite suddenly gone. So much was riding on getting Walda on her side, and Sansa felt wildly unprepared for this meeting. 

“Sandor?” She finally asked quietly. “Can you help me with something?” 

She looked at him again, and he was frowning in confusion. 

“Anything, little bird.” 

The look in his dark eyes made Sansa shiver, the intensity so great that she had to look away. 

“I need…” She bit her lip, feeling suddenly nervous. She heard the clinking of silverware and looked up to see that Sandor had put down his knife and fork, and had turned his body towards her, elbows and forearms resting on his knees. 

“What is it?” He asked softly. 

She took another deep breath. “I need pictures of my scars. The ones on my back? From Ramsay, and I… I need help.” She bit her lip as she looked up at him again. 

He looked surprised. “Of course.” He said. 

Sansa nodded once, looking away and chewing the inside of her cheek. She felt Sandor’s eyes on her and her cheeks grew hot. Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet and picked up her phone. She opened the camera app and handed the phone to Sandor. He accepted and looked away as her fingers went to the hem of her t-shirt. She turned away from him as she pulled the shirt over her head, then quickly unclasped her bra. She clutched both items against her chest as she heard Sandor stand and take a couple steps closer. Her breath hitched when she felt his rough fingers at her neck, but he was simply sweeping her hair out of the way, over one shoulder. 

She closed her eyes as she heard the clicking sound from her phone. A few moments and several clicks later, Sandor cleared his throat softly. 

“Did you, uh… Did you need pictures of the ones on your front too?” He asked softly. 

“Oh. Um. I suppose.” Sansa’s voice broke, and she cleared her throat as she slowly turned to face him. 

She glanced at his face but quickly looked away when she saw the pity there. She bunched up the shirt, careful to keep her breasts covered, and Sandor dropped to one knee in front of her. His fingers brushed against one of her arms, adjusting it out of the way, and she squeezed her eyes shut again. 

The camera clicked a few more times, and Sansa opened her eyes again when she heard Sandor stand. He was looking purposely over her shoulder as he handed the phone back to her, and turned away as soon as she took it. She slipped away down the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her so she could get dressed. 

She really did feel silly trying to be modest in front of Sandor, but things were so different now. She sighed to herself as she put her bra and t-shirt back on, and splashed cool water on her face. She returned to the living room and sank onto the opposite end of the sofa from Sandor. 

“Did you check the pictures?” He asked quietly after a moment. “To make sure you have what you need?” 

“No.” Sansa murmured, opening her phone and quickly flicking through the pictures. “These will do fine, thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Sansa set her phone on the coffee table and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. The tension in the room was palpable, and she tried hard to focus on the TV instead of the man beside her. She considered briefly that maybe she should get a hotel room rather than subject herself and Sandor to this awkwardness, but dismissed the idea immediately. Awkward though it may be, she would be an anxious mess if she were alone; she’d be pacing and peeking between the curtains and triple checking that she’d locked the doors. Plus she’d like to think he’d be worried about her if she wasn’t here. 

Tears pricked the corners of Sansa’s eyes, and she squeezed them shut again. She just wanted to fast forward a couple weeks or a couple months, to when everything could go back to normal. She hated that Ramsay was looming over her again, turning her entire life upside-down and making her question everything. 

“You okay?” Sandor asked after a couple minutes. 

“I’m fine.” She murmured, opening her eyes and trying to focus on the TV. 

Sandor hummed softly, and she saw him lean back in her peripheral vision. 

“Do friends comfort friends?” He asked slowly after another minute. 

Sansa turned her head to look at him and he was watching her with a furrowed brow. 

“Friends might.” She answered quietly. 

He nodded slowly, looking back at the TV. 

“What might be an appropriate way for a friend to do that?” He asked. 

Sansa felt herself smile at him and bit her lip. This was dangerous territory. 

“A friend might say that everything is going to be okay.” She suggested quietly. 

“Even if they have no way of knowing that?” His eyes flashed to hers. 

She nodded once. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Sansa.” He held her gaze and she smiled at him, then turned back to the TV. 

***

It was taking all her self control not to get up and pace. She was sitting in the back corner of Hot Pie’s Bakery, eyes on the door, waiting for Walda Bolton. Her leg jiggled up and down and her fingernails were tapping on the tabletop. Bronn was sitting outside on the patio, sipping black coffee and reading a newspaper. Sansa looked down into her own cup, taking deep breaths to steady herself as she waited. 

The bell on the door jingled, and Sansa’s head snapped up. Walda was smiling warmly at her as she walked across the cafe, and Sansa jumped to her feet. 

“Sansa, it’s so good to see you!” Walda said when she reached Sansa’s table. 

Walda pulled her in for a hug, much to Sansa’s surprise, and Sansa hugged her back after a moment. She pulled back and looked into Sansa’s face. 

“I’ve been so worried for you and Lyanna, everything that Ramsay has been telling us…” Walda shuddered. “You look well.” 

“Thank you, you do as well.” Sansa replied, her stomach dropping. What had Ramsay been feeding her? “Why don’t you get a cup of coffee and we can chat?” 

A few moments later, Walda was sitting across from her with a cup of tea. Sansa took a few steadying breaths, then looked the woman in the eyes. 

“I’ve asked you here today to discuss my relationship with Ramsay.” Sansa started. 

“Oh, yes! He told me you and Lyanna will be coming home soon!” Walda beamed. “Roose and I are so excited to have you both back, and we’ll do everything we can to help you.” 

Sansa grimaced. 

“Walda… that’s what I wanted to discuss with you. Lyanna and I are not coming back.” Sansa said slowly. Walda’s smile vanished. “I left Ramsay because I feared for my daughters safety.” 

“I hate to say it Sansa, but I fear for Lyanna’s safety now.” Walda frowned at her. “The things Ramsay has been telling us, that you’ve had to turn to,” she glanced around and lowered her voice, “ _prostitution_ to provide for Lyanna, that you’ve been using illegal drugs…” 

Walda shook her head sadly and Sansa felt her face flush. She took a deep breath, then reached across the table and placed her hand over Walda’s. 

“None of that is true.” Sansa whispered. “I started dancing at a gentlemen's club, but I’m not a prostitute, and I’m not using drugs. I left Ramsay because he was beating me, Walda. And at the beginning of this week, he came to my place of work and admitted that he’s been having me followed. He threatened me, and Lyanna, in front of four of my colleagues.” 

Walda’s hand jumped to her mouth. “Ramsay would never…” She whispered, shaking her head. 

Sansa sighed and pulled out her phone. She opened her camera roll, and pushed the device across the table. 

“This is what he did to me.” Sansa said, trying to keep her voice steady. 

With shaking hands, Walda picked up the phone and looked through the pictures Sandor had taken the night before. She looked back at Sansa, eyes brimming with tears. 

“I need your help, Walda.” Sansa said, reaching across the table and taking her hand again. “I need you and Roose to help me keep my daughter safe.” 

Walda set the phone down and placed her hand over Sansa’s. 

“What exactly are you asking me to do, Sansa?” Walda asked quietly. 

Sansa smiled. 

***

Sansa felt lighter than she had in days as she rode the elevator up to Sandor’s floor. Walda had agreed to help, and hugged Sansa tightly before they parted ways. 

Her phone rang as she put the key in the lock, and she shouldered the door open as she dug for it in her bag. Sandor looked up from the couch as she came in, and she smiled as she finally got her phone. 

“Hello, Jon.” She said brightly. 

“Where are you?” Jon’s harsh voice made her blood run cold. 

“I’ve just got back to Sandor’s apartment.” She said, brow furrowing. “What’s the matter?” 

“Is he there?” 

“Yes, he’s right here.” Sansa replied, dropping her purse and sinking onto the couch next to Sandor. She put her phone on speaker, and held it out between them. “You’re on speaker, what’s happened?”

“Ygritte was attacked.” 

Sansa gasped, her hand jumping to her mouth. 

“Is she alright?” Sandor demanded, sitting up straighter. 

“I’m fucking fine!” Ygritte’s voice came through the speaker, and Sansa exhaled sharply. 

“What fucking happened?” Sandor growled, hands balling into fists on his knees. 

“We were walking into a store and some thug grabbed her from behind, tried to drag her away to a black SUV.” Jon said. 

Sansa felt tears spring to her eyes. 

“I kicked his fucking arse.” Ygritte spoke again. 

“I bet she did.” Sandor bared his teeth in a menacing smile that reminded Sansa of the first day she met Ygritte, when she’d said she kept unwanted visitors from the burn unit. 

“We’re at the police station now, and they’re contacting Winter Town police to get everything on the same report.” Jon said. “I got the license plate of the vehicle, but the windows were tinted, so I don’t know if Ramsay was there or not. If he was, he’ll know that you’re not with me, Sansa.” 

Her breath hitched, and Sandor’s eyes flashed to hers. 

“She’ll be safe with me.” Sandor said gruffly. 

“You do not leave her fucking side, Clegane.” Jon growled dangerously. “Not for anything, do you understand me?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sandor promised solemnly. 

“Good. Sansa?” 

“I’m here.” She croaked. 

“I’m going to call Arya and let her know what’s happened. Robb will be flying into Winter Town tomorrow afternoon, let him rent a car and come to you, _do not_ meet him at the airport.” 

Sansa nodded, then realized her cousin could not see her. “Okay.” 

“Call that private investigator and let him know what’s happened. The police are trying to get the surveillance of the front of the store for the report.” Jon said. 

“Okay.” Sansa repeated. 

“You look after my cousin, Clegane.” Jon said. “I’ll have your balls if anything happens to her.” 

“If anything happens to her, I’ll gift wrap them for you.” Sandor smirked at her, and Sansa almost giggled. 

“Stay in touch, Sansa. I’ll call you later.” 

She ended the call and set her phone down, breathing hard. 

“It’s alright, little bird.” Sandor put his hand on her shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Sansa nodded, taking deep breaths to calm her pounding heart. 

“Call Bronn.” He prodded. 

She nodded again, and picked up her phone. She called Bronn first, then Smalljon, and recounted to both what had happened. She felt exhausted by the time she set her phone down again, and let her head fall into her hands. 

Sandor put his hand on her back, rubbing gently between her shoulder blades. 

“This is all my fault.” Sansa whispered. 

“Stop that.” He murmured. 

“It is! Ygritte’s been attacked, all to keep me safe.” 

Sansa’s eyes were filled with tears again, and Sandor sighed, then tugged on her arm. She fell willing into his embrace, burying her face in the crook of Sandor’s neck. He shushed her softly, wrapping her securely in his arms. 

“Ygritte can handle herself.” She felt the vibrations of his gravelly voice against her cheek. “I guarantee she did more damage than she took, especially with that cousin of yours right there with her. She’s fine.” 

Sanda sniffled, wrapping her fingers in the soft fabric of Sandor’s t-shirt. She was sure this level of comforting was beyond what normal friends would do, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Sandor held her for several long minutes, until her breathing steadied and her tears dried. 

She pulled away, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks with the heels of her hands, and Sandor let his arms fall. They just looked at each other for a long moment, until Sandor’s gaze became too intense and she had to look away. 

“Go to take a hot shower.” He suggested, pushing himself to his feet. “It’ll help you feel better.” 

Sansa nodded and stood, smoothing her shirt. She dug through her duffel bag for fresh clothes, and padded down the hall to the bathroom. She almost succumbed to tears again in the shower, but managed to pull herself together. 

When she emerged from the bathroom, wearing yoga pants and a soft t-shirt, she hesitated at Sandor’s raspy voice coming from the kitchen. She crept down the hall, but relaxed when she heard Tormund respond to him. 

She came out of the hallway and saw the two men in the kitchen, leaning against opposite counters, each holding a beer. She cleared her throat to announce her presence, and Tormund whipped around. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, smiling slightly and looking between them. 

“Tormund is here to help us with a project.” Sandor said, pushing off the counter and setting down his beer. 

“A project?” Sansa repeated. 

“Aye, I’m rather attached to my balls and I’d prefer that cousin of yours stay the fuck away from them.” Sandor smirked, and both men came into the living area. 

“I don’t understand.” Sansa whispered, glancing between them. 

Sandor and Tormund each took one side of the couch and pushed it forward until the front was flush to the TV stand, leaving a large, open space. 

“We’re gonna teach you how to fight.” Tormund grinned proudly. 

Sansa’s mouth fell open and she looked between the two men. 

“After what happened to Ygritte today, you need to be able to hold your own.” Sandor said. 

Tormund walked around behind her and lifted her up in a bear hug, her arms pinned to her sides. Sansa reacted instinctively, throwing her weight back and smashing his nose with the back of her head, as she raised her legs and hit him between the legs with her heel. Tormund cursed and dropped her, and she twisted away from his grasp. 

Tormund fell to his knees, one hand on his face and the other cupping his balls. She almost apologized, but Sandor started laughing. She turned to him and he was grinning proudly. He approached her in two quick steps and wrapped his hands around her wrists, pushing her against the wall. She twisted her hands to grab his wrists and pulled him forward, lifting her knee to his groin but barely brushing against him, then swung her arms out and down to break his grip. 

“I knew I liked her.” Tormund groaned, rolling onto his back. “Good job, Sansa.” 

“Sorry, Tormund.” She said sheepishly. 

“Don’t apologize. Get up, you cunt.” Sandor crossed the room and hoisted Tormund up by the elbow. “Go again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think, reviews are life!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Hopefully this extra long chapter makes up for it. 
> 
> Thanks to Kitsfics for proofreading!

“You really didn’t have to come, Robb.” Sansa said sheepishly, accepting the paper coffee cup he offered. 

“Will you stop saying that and invite me in?” Robb raised an expectant eyebrow. 

Sansa sighed and stepped back, motioning him into Sandor’s apartment. It was Monday morning, and they were meeting Smalljon in less than an hour. Robb came inside, looking interestedly around the apartment. Sansa closed and bolted the door behind Robb, then turned to face him. She found him staring at the neatly folded blanket and pillow on one end of the couch, and she cleared her throat softly. 

“Sandor isn’t here, but I’m sure you’ll meet him tonight.” Sansa said, crossing the room and heading back to the bathroom, motioning Robb to follow her. 

“Sandor? Is that Dr. Scarface?” Robb asked, trailing behind her. 

“Don’t call him that!” Sansa whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at her older brother. 

Robb raised his hands in mock surrender. “Arya never said his name! Won’t happen again.” He smirked. 

Sansa glowered and returned to her position in front of the bathroom mirror, where she was putting on her makeup. Robb leaned against the door frame, sipping his own coffee. 

“All I know about him is what Arya’s told me, but I’d like to hear your version.” Robb inclined his head. 

Sansa sighed. “What, exactly, has Arya told you?” 

“That you’ve gone and fallen in love with an enormous brute.” Robb said. His voice was casual, but she could tell he was searching her for a reaction. “That he loves you back, but you’re getting in your own way and making shit harder than it needs to be.” 

Sansa lowered her fluffy powder brush and bit her lip. She realized in that moment that Robb was going to find out everything before the end of the day anyways, so she might as well get some advice out of it. 

“Robb, I’m a stripper.” 

Her brother choked on his coffee, spluttering and turning red as he coughed. Sansa mentally hit herself. That wasn’t where she’d meant to start. 

“Are you--” he broke into another fit of coughing. “Are you fucking kidding?” 

“No.” Sansa fixed her gaze on her reflection and took a deep breath. She continued with her makeup, and told Robb everything. She glanced at him occasionally, and his mouth was hanging open in shock. “And he didn’t realize who I was until Ramsay showed up.” She dropped her mascara back into her makeup bag, and finally turned to face Robb. “And now everything with me and Sandor is wrapped up with Ramsay coming back. Because I didn’t tell him first. And I can’t try to figure out what that means for us, when I need to be focused on fighting for Lyanna.” 

Robb finally closed his mouth and pushed a hand through his auburn curls. 

“Shit, San.” He finally said, shaking his head. “How the hell did things get so fucked?” 

Sansa laughed, somewhat bitterly. “I’ve been asking myself that ten times a day.” 

She slipped past Robb and went back to the living room, sitting on the couch to put her shoes on. Robb leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, still looking dumbfounded. 

“So you’ve just put everything at a complete stop?” Robb asked. “You went from fucking and wanting to tell him who you are and make a go of it, to sleeping on his couch instead of in his bed?” 

“That’s a pretty simple way of putting it.” Sansa frowned at her brother. 

“But…” He gestured wordlessly for a moment. “Why? Why can’t you see how things go with Dr. Scar-- Sandor… while you sort things with Ramsay?” 

“It’s too much.” Sansa shook her head. 

“How?” Robb asked, crossing his arms. “You’re here, he’s helping you, why not see what happens?” 

Sansa sighed, then pushed herself to her feet. 

“Because I’m afraid.” She admitted. She looked Robb straight in the face. “Sandor has a quick temper, and he’s said things to me when he was angry. Mean things, cruel things. Joff and Ramsay said cruel things too. I can’t let myself fall any more in love with Sandor until I know that him calling me a whore was a fluke. I can’t let another man treat me that way. I can’t let Lyanna see more than what she already has. I could fall for him, Robb. I really could. But I have to get my head right first, and protect myself. If he ever hurt me the way they did…” Sansa trailed off, her eyes filling with tears. “It would destroy me.” She finished in a whisper. 

Robb held her gaze, frowning slightly as he took in all she’d said. After a few moments, he sighed and checked his watch. 

“Let’s get going.” He murmured, pushing off the wall and motioning her towards the door. 

Sansa nodded and quickly wiped her eyes as she picked up her purse. Robb was quiet as they rode down the elevator and walked to his car. She punched the address for Smalljon’s office into the GPS, and settled back into the passenger seat as Robb pulled out onto the street. 

That was the first time she’d let herself go down that train of thought, to actually acknowledge something Sandor had in common with Ramsay and Joffrey. It scared her. It scared her to know that she had let herself care for Sandor so much, that he could bring her entire world crashing down in a way that Joff and Ramsay had never had the power to. She’d never loved them. They had broken her skin, her bones, her soul, her spirit, but they had never broken her heart. 

The feelings she had for Sandor were all consuming. She imagined how it felt when he held her, when he kissed her knuckles or her hair, when he was inside of her, and she didn’t know if she would have the strength to leave him if he became violent. She didn’t know if she would be able to live without him, if she ever felt what it was like to be truly his. 

And she could not, would not let her daughter grow up watching an unhealthy relationship. She had to be completely sure that Sandor was different before she could let him in truly. 

Sansa broke from her reverie when Robb parked his rental car outside Smalljon’s office building. He turned off the car, and twisted in the seat to face her. 

“Did he have the right to be angry?” Robb asked. “When he called you a whore.” He clarified at her confused look. 

“Yes.” Sansa replied, dropping her gaze to her hands. “It was at the hospital, he’d just found out who I was. He accused me of only seeing him for the money, of not caring, said that it didn’t mean anything to me, and that he should’ve known I was just a whore.” 

Robb was silent for a long moment. “Did he apologize?” He asked softly. 

“Yes.” 

“How many times?” 

“Twice.” Sansa frowned at her brother in confusion. “Once right away, and then again after a couple of days.” She left out that they’d been in bed together for the second one. 

Robb nodded thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. After another few moments, he turned back to Sansa and took her hand. 

“I’ve never met the guy, San.” Robb started. “And you’ve definitely found yourself in a fucking complicated situation. I’m not going to tell you what to do, or what I think you should do.” 

He paused, and Sansa raised an eyebrow. She had the sinking suspicion he was about to do just that, to tell her in detail what he thought about her life choices. But he surprised her. 

“Did Joff or Ramsay ever apologize?” He asked. 

“Yes.” Sansa rolled her eyes. 

“San.” Robb rolled his eyes right back. “Did they ever apologize and _mean it_?” 

Sansa hesitated, thinking back on all the half-assed apologies, the manipulation, the gifts. 

“No.” She finally answered, shaking her head. 

“Do you think Sandor meant it when he did?” 

She nodded slowly. “I do.” She whispered. 

He clapped her on the shoulder and gave her a knowing smile, then shrugged. 

“I’ve never met the guy.” He repeated. “Come on, we’re going to be late.” 

Robb hopped out of the car, but Sansa hesitated a moment. Just as she always had, she could practically feel her mother and father nodding in encouragement to what Robb had said. True to his word, he hadn’t given an opinion. Somehow, he’d also told her exactly what she needed to hear. 

_Brave and gentle and strong._

Sansa sighed and followed Robb out of the car, swinging her bag over her shoulder and following Robb into the building. 

Smalljon ushered them into a conference room, and motioned for Sansa and Robb to sit. 

“I have a good feeling about today.” Smalljon said with a smile as he sat at the head of the table. “First, do you have the copies from your journals?” 

“Yes.” Sansa produced the sheaf of papers from her bag. “Organized by date, starting with the first time I met him.”

“Excellent!” Smalljon pulled the pile towards him and flicked through the stack, skimming a page here and there. “And the originals are safe? They might be subpoenaed for evidence if we get to court.” 

“Yes.” Sansa nodded. “In a safety deposit box.” 

“Perfect.” Smalljon read a few more pages, then looked back at Sansa. “I’d like to offer copies to Roose and his lawyer, are you comfortable with that?” 

“No, but yes.” Sansa sighed, leaning back in her chair and wrapping her arms around herself. 

“I understand.” Smalljon nodded solemnly. “I’m going to give these to my assistant to make copies.” 

Sansa nodded her consent, and Smalljon left the room. 

“You’re doing great, San.” Robb offered a small smile. 

Sansa sighed and attempted to smile back, then dropped her gaze. Anxiety was creeping in, swirling tendrils at the corners of her mind. 

Smalljon returned quickly and offered a sympathetic smile as he retook his seat. 

“I have the statements from your cousin, sister, and coworkers here.” He patted a folder. “And I received the photos you sent.” He touched another folder. “The main thing we need to do this morning is discuss exactly what you’re willing to accept from the Bolton’s, and your minimum take in return.” 

Sansa swallowed heavily and nodded, leaning forward again in her chair. 

“I want Ramsay’s parental rights terminated.” Sansa said. “I don’t want him to ever be in the same room as her again.” 

Smalljon nodded, making a few notes on a pad of paper. 

“I would be open to Roose and Walda having occasional supervised visitation, as a last resort.” Sansa added quietly. 

Robb put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she glanced at him. He was stern, and serious, but seemed completely calm. 

“Is what she’s asking for possible?” Robb asked, turning to Smalljon. 

“Yes.” He answered at once, looking up. “I don’t anticipate much of a fight from Roose Bolton. The question that remains, is whether he actually holds enough pull over his son to force him to fall in line.” 

***

A few hours later, Sansa and Robb returned to Smalljon’s office after getting lunch. Sansa had picked at her food, too anxious to eat more than a couple bites. Robb had filled the silence chatting about life in Volantis, the research he was doing for his Master’s degree in Ancient Valyrian History, and his plans to come home as soon as he was finished. 

As they were about to enter Smalljon’s lobby, Sansa’s phone rang. She checked the caller ID and saw Sandor’s name. 

“Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” Sansa smiled at her brother, who gave her a knowing grin as he pushed through the door. “Hi.” She whispered as she answered the call. 

“Hey.” His raspy voice answered. “I just wanted to check on you. Things going okay?” 

“Yes, everything’s fine so far.” She answered, leaning against the wall. 

“Good. Are they there yet?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“I can still come down there, if you want. I don’t have anything scheduled for this afternoon.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Sansa replied. “I’m sure you can find someone there who needs your help.” 

He grunted, and Sansa bit her lip to hide her smile. 

“Call me if you change your mind?” He asked after a moment. 

“I will.” Sansa agreed. 

“Your brother is with you?” 

“Yes, Robb is here.” Sansa confirmed, glancing over her shoulder at the door. “I think he wants to meet you.” 

“Meet me?” Sandor chuckled. “Or kill me for touching his pretty sister?” 

“Meet you.” Sansa grinned, blushing hard. “He’s heard quite a bit about you today.” 

Sandor groaned, and Sansa pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles. 

“Aye, I’ll meet your brother.” He agreed, sounding hesitant. 

Sansa’s heart jumped to her throat, and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths to steady herself. 

“Thank you for checking in.” Sansa murmured. “I really do appreciate all you’re doing for me, Sandor.” 

He made a dismissive sound, and Sansa smiled again. 

“I have to go, the Bolton’s will be here soon.” She said after a few moments of silence. 

“Okay.” He sighed. “Good luck, little bird.” 

She ended the call and sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, then turned and walked through the doors to Smalljon’s office. 

“Margaery!” She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “What are you doing here?” 

Margaery stood and smiled at Sansa. 

“I’m here for backup, darling.” She said smoothly, pulling Sansa in for a hug. “Did you really think we’d let you go in there alone?” 

Sansa wrapped her arms tight around her friend, overflowing with emotions. 

“Thank you.” She whispered tearfully. 

“Hush darling, it’s nothing.” Margaery patted her back. 

Sansa pulled away from Margaery, carefully wiping at her eyes. 

“Shit, sorry. Margaery, this is my brother, Robb. Robb, this is my friend Margaery.” Sansa quickly introduced them. 

“We met.” Margaery gave Sansa a sly smile. 

“Yes, while we were waiting for you.” Robb added hastily. 

Sansa looked between them for a moment, but Smalljon emerged before she could ask any questions. 

“The Bolton’s will be here any minute,” Smalljon was saying, “let’s get you lot into the conference room.” 

They followed him back to the room they’d been in earlier, and he directed Sansa to sit in the middle on one side. He left an empty seat to her right, and sat Robb on her left, with Margaery on the other side of the empty seat, where Smalljon would sit. 

He left the room, and Sansa folded her hands on the table, trying to fight back her anxiety. 

“It will all be fine, darling.” Margaery assured her with a smile. 

Sansa tried to smile back, then quickly broke her friends gaze and focused on her hands. She heard Robb and Margaery speaking across her, but her mind was too much a whirlwind to focus on what they were saying. 

A few minutes later the door opened, and Smalljon ushered in Roose Bolton, Walda, and another man she presumed to be a lawyer. She, Robb, and Margaery all stood when they entered. Sansa nodded politely to each of them. After just a few moments, they all sat around the large table. Roose sat directly across from her, Walda on one side, and his lawyer on the other. 

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us in person, Senator Bolton.” Smalljon said as he took the seat next to Sansa. 

“You said it was urgent.” Roose replied evenly, glaring daggers at Sansa. 

“It is, indeed.” Smalljon agreed with a solemn nod. “Our first order of business, I think, is to establish what we all want.” 

Roose raised an eyebrow at Smalljon, but otherwise didn’t respond. 

“You, Senator Bolton, would like for the press not to know that your son is an abuser and a rapist.” Smalljon continued. “Miss Stark would like to raise her daughter in peace, away from said abuser and rapist. Do we all agree so far?” 

Smalljon looked up and down the table earnestly, and Sanda nodded once. When she looked back across the table, Roose’s mouth was set in a thin line, and Walda looked uncomfortable, bordering on afraid. 

“Excellent.” Smalljon grinned. 

“ _Alleged_ abuser and rapist.” Roose’s lawyer cut in. 

“Alleged.” Smalljon waved a courteous hand to the lawyer. “But even an _alleged_ crime can be detrimental to a political career. Can’t it, Roose?” 

“Let’s start with your evidence.” Roose replied calmly. “A whisper or rumor has no effect whatsoever on anyone's career.” 

“Right you are, Senator.” Smalljon smiled. “Margaery, could you please recount Senator Bolton with the events of last Monday?” 

“Happy to.” Margaery gave Smalljon a dazzling smile, then turned to face Roose. “Last Monday, Ramsay Bolton came to the records hall at Winter Town Memorial Hospital.” 

Margaery recounted the incident with Ramsay in detail, and Sansa had to bite back a smile as Roose became more and more sullen throughout the tale. 

“As he left, he made a comment about wishing Miss Stark had stuck around to warm his bed.” Margaery finished a few minutes later. 

“And you were the only witness to this supposed interaction?” Roose’s lawyer asked. 

“Well of course not!” Margaery laughed, high and tinkling. “There were three other witnesses, my assistant and two of Winter Town Memorial’s best surgeons.” 

Sansa ducked her head to hide her smile as Roose and his lawyer leaned their heads close together. Smalljon patted her hand reassuringly. 

“Do you have any evidence that Ramsay was volatile to Miss Stark before this _alleged_ incident?” The lawyer asked. 

“Plenty.” Smalljon grinned. 

The next hour passed in a blur as Smalljon offered photos of her scars, journal entries, and statements from her family to Roose’s lawyer. As the meeting went on, Roose’s lawyer never faltered, but Roose himself was growing increasingly dour. 

“What is it that you want, Miss Stark?” Roose asked pointedly.

He flicked the folder containing her journal entries shut, and folded his hands on the table. 

“I want Ramsay to leave me and Lyanna alone.” Sansa replied. “I want his parental rights severed, and I want him to never bother me again.” 

Roose held her gaze for a long moment, then turned to his lawyer. They murmured together for a moment, then Roose’s lawyer called for a break. The Bolton’s left the office, and Sansa slumped in her chair. 

“It’s almost over, Sansa.” Robb assured her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“He knows he’s trapped, darling.” Margaery smiled, reaching across Smalljon to squeeze her arm. 

“We haven’t even mentioned the attack on Ygritte.” Sansa said, turning to Smalljon. 

Smalljon smiled. 

“Exactly, Sansa! They’re already scrambling, the attack on Ygritte will push them over the edge.” Smalljon assured her with a smile. 

Sansa nodded and turned away, linking her fingers together on her lap. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, but Sansa was still desperately worried that this meeting wouldn’t help anything. 

“Check your phone, Sansa.” Margaery’s voice cut through Sansa’s worries. 

Sansa looked at her friend, then frowned and dug in her bag for her phone. She pulled it out finally, and shot a suspicious glance at Margaery as she unlocked it. Her heart jumped back to her throat as she read the text from Sandor, which had details for the dinner reservation he’d made for that night at the most expensive restaurant in Winter Town. 

Sansa glanced at Margaery, who flashed her a knowing smile, and leapt to her feet. She took Margaery’s arm and all but dragged her to the ladies room. 

“What the hell is this?” Sansa demanded in a whisper, thrusting her phone towards Margaery. 

Her friend took the phone, and her eyes flashed across the screen, before she grinned at Sansa. 

“That’s your man trying to impress your older brother.” Margaery replied. 

Sansa groaned and dropped her head into her hands. 

“What’s the matter?” Margaery asked, patting Sansa’s shoulder. 

“I don’t want him trying to impress my brother.” Sansa told her. “I don’t want him going all out, or trying to prove something.” 

“Why the hell not?” Margaery frowned at her in confusion. 

“I need to know who he _really_ is, Marg. Not who he is when he has someone to impress, not who he wants people to think he is, I need to know _him_ so I can decide what to do!” Sansa explained. 

“Oh Sansa…” Margaery smiled and shook her head. “ _That_ is exactly who he is. You’ve put everything on pause and he still wants to make a good impression for your family. He knows that you might not choose him when all this is over, he probably assumes that you won’t. And he’s doing it anyways. That’s who he is.” 

Sansa gaped at her friend, then looked back down at her phone. 

“Am I being stupid about this?” Sansa asked, leaning back on the counter. “Should I… should I just be with him?” 

“Nice try.” Margaery laughed. “I’m not telling you what to do. Come on, let’s get back.” 

Margaery linked her arm through Sansa’s and led her back to the conference room. Robb shot them a questioning look, and Sansa shook her head. 

A few minutes later, Roose came back with Walda and his lawyer. They looked grim as they settled back into their seats, and Smalljon gave Sansa a subtle smile. 

“Miss Stark, my client sympathizes with your, ah, predicament.” The lawyer started. “However, the evidence you’ve laid out here, it’s circumstantial and biased. You don’t have much of a case here, and young Ramsay desperately misses his daughter.” 

Sansa nodded once to indicate she was listening. 

“We believe that Ramsay would agree to the terms we’ve laid out here.” The lawyer pushed a folder across the table, and Smalljon frowned as he took it. “This agreement will allow twice-monthly visitation, and a two week stay each Summer. Ramsay will pay 20 dragons per month in child support, and Miss Stark will sign a nondisclosure agreement to protect the Bolton family’s political ambitions. This agreement is a one-time offer, and if it is not signed today, Ramsay will be pursuing full legal and physical custody.” 

Smalljon was looking at Sansa, but she was staring at Roose. His mouth was still set in that same thin line, but she could see the mirth behind his eyes. Rage lit a fire deep in Sansa’s chest, and she squeezed the edge of the table to keep her hands from shaking. 

“Senator Bolton, I would like to reiterate that I am not pursuing any criminal charges at this time.” Sansa said slowly. 

“Criminal charges?” Roose chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Whatever fantasy you’ve made up will not hold up in court, Sansa. You must realize that?” 

“Just sign the agreement, Miss Stark, and we can put this whole matter behind us.” Roose’s lawyer smirked as he reached across the table and set a pen on the folder that was lying open on the table. 

Sansa pulled the folder toward her, lifted the papers from it, and tore them in half. She placed the papers back in the folder, flicked it shut, and pushed it back across the table. The lawyer looked furious, but Sansa focused on Roose as she spoke again. 

“Ramsay raped me, Roose. Six days ago. He was waiting for me in my apartment, and he raped me.” 

Walda gasped and her hands jumped to her mouth. 

“On Saturday afternoon, he attempted to abduct my friend because he thought she was me.” Sansa continued. “I am willing to drop the charges against him, and grant visitation with Lyanna to you and Walda, if Ramsay terminates his parental rights.” 

Roose searched her face for a long moment, but remained silent. 

“If I have to take this to court,” Sansa paused and took a deep breath, “I will spill every secret I have. I’ll go to the press. I’ll make sure that every Northerner who hears the name Bolton will immediately remember what Ramsay has done to me.” 

“You’re a whore.” Roose replied with a smirk. “No one will believe you. You’re a smart girl, Sansa, just sign the damn papers before you lose everything.” 

Sansa smiled. “I’m a mother who would do anything to protect her child.” Sansa said. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, Roose.” 

“I think we’re done here.” Roose’s lawyer stood. 

“No.” Walda whispered. “No. Roose, can’t we--” 

Roose silenced her with a pointed look, and Walda’s gaze dropped to her hands. 

“I’ll give you until the end of the day tomorrow to reconsider this offer, which I think your lawyer will agree is quite fair.” Roose said, staring at Sansa. 

“Roose!” Walda whispered, and he waved a hand to silence her again. 

“Don’t be a fool.” Roose advised as he rose to his feet. 

“Damn it, Roose! She’s right!” Walda exclaimed. “This may not be enough for criminal charges against Ramsay, but it might be! And even then, it may be enough to keep all of us from Lyanna!” 

“Quiet, woman.” Roose growled, rounding on his wife. 

“No!” Walda stood. “Lyanna is our granddaughter, Roose. We didn’t protect Sansa when she was with us, we owe it to her to protect Lyanna now!” 

Roose and his lawyer both gaped at Walda, and Sansa grinned at her. 

“Mrs. Bolton, why don’t we step outside for a moment.” The lawyer hissed when he recovered, ushering them both towards the door. 

“Let’s all meet again tomorrow afternoon?” Smalljon suggested, rising to his feet. “It’s been a long day.” 

Smalljon followed the Bolton’s from the office, flashing a grin over his shoulder at Sansa as he did. Sansa released a long breath and sat back in her chair. 

“That was amazing, darling!” Margaery whispered, taking Smalljon’s vacated seat and throwing her arms around Sansa. 

“You did well, San.” Robb agreed, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s not over yet.” Sansa murmured, hugging her friend back. 

“But it will be.” Margaery flashed her best smile. 

Smalljon returned and gave them a time for tomorrow’s meeting, then Robb, Margaery, and Sansa left his office. 

“Will you be joining us for dinner, Margaery?” Robb asked when Sansa told him about the reservation. 

“I’d love to.” Margaery grinned at Robb. “Sansa, why don’t you come with me to get ready for dinner?” 

Sansa nodded her consent, and let Margaery lead her to her car. Robb followed behind them, and waited until they were safely driving away before returning to his own car. 

“So your brother…” Margaery glanced at her and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

“I knew it!” Sansa exclaimed, clapping her hands together and rounding on her friend. “You were flirting with him!” 

“Of course I was flirting with him.” Margaery rolled her eyes. “Is he single?” 

“He is.” Sansa grinned. “Damn, you and Robb, Jon and Ygritte…” She sighed and shook her head in mock exasperation, and Margaery giggled. 

“Well, expect to see much more flirting at dinner then.” 

Margaery flicked her hair, and both girls succumbed to giggles. The leftover anxiety from seeing Roose quickly faded as Margaery ushered her into her apartment and started pulling garments from her closet and flinging them at Sansa faster than she could catch them. 

“Seven hells, Margaery, slow down!” Sansa laughed, dumping the armload of dresses out on the bed. “What are you wearing?” 

Margaery produced a pale green dress with a knee length A-line skirt, and Sansa knew at once it would cling perfectly to every curve on Margaery’s body. 

“That’s gorgeous!” Sansa grinned at her friend, then turned back to the pile. 

“Ooh, this one, Sansa.” 

Sansa turned and Margaery brandished a hanger with a navy blue dress. Sansa grinned and began stripping off, then pulled on the dress. It was satin overlaid with lace, sweetheart neckline, with the sheer lace extending to cover her chest and shoulders. The bodice had some simple beading, and there was a row of charcoal buttons from the hollow of her throat to the ribbon belt. 

Margaery stepped behind her and laced up the corset back with a ribbon that matched the belt, then buttoned the collar around the back of her neck. There were several inches of exposed skin on her back between the top of the corset and the collar, and the dress fell just above her knees. Sansa went to the mirror and spun once, the skirt fluttering and swishing around her. 

“That’s the one!” Margaery jumped once, clapping her hands. “Okay, I need to pick something different or you’re going to look way better than me!” 

Sansa laughed, then spun again. She sat at Margaery’s vanity while her friend continued flicking through her closet, and started fixing her hair and makeup. 

“So tell me about Robb.” Margaery said casually. 

Sansa groaned. “You’re really gonna try to bang by brother?” 

Margaery threw a dramatic wink over her shoulder and Sansa laughed, then obliged her friend with the details she asked for. An hour later, both girls stood in front of Margaery’s floor length mirror. Her friend had selected a pink halter dress that accentuated her hips and cleavage. Sansa had styled her hair in a half updo, and done a smokey eye with deep red lipstick. 

The girls spent several moments in front of the mirror striking dramatic model poses, giggling the whole time, before Margaery declared they were ready to go. 

“The reservation isn’t for another 45 minutes.” Sansa protested, sitting on the edge of Margaery’s bed to put on the strappy black heels her friend had selected for her. 

“Then we’ll have a drink while we wait.” Margaery grinned, and all but dragged Sansa back out to her car. 

15 minutes later, they were walking into the restaurant. Sansa fidgeted behind her friend while she spoke to the host, then followed them both to the bar and ordered a glass of wine. 

“So what’s it like living with Sandor?” Margaery asked as they received their drinks. 

“Fucking weird.” Sansa replied after a long sip of wine. 

Margaery raised an eyebrow in question, and Sansa sighed, tracing the rim of her glass with her pinky as she spoke. 

“That first night I was there, we… Well, we had some pretty incredible sex.” 

Margaery squealed and clapped, and Sansa’s hand shot out to stop her friend's display. 

“Not like that. I told him that we can’t be more than friends while all this is happening, and my choice of words left a loophole.” 

“How do you mean?” 

Sansa huffed a laugh at the memory. “I said, ‘after today we’re just friends.’ And he said ‘what about the rest of today?’”

“Aww!” Margaery clasped her hands together on her chest. “I swoon!” 

“Stop it.” Sansa giggled. 

“The man has game when he wants to, you can’t deny that.” Margaery took another drink. 

“I can’t.” Sansa agreed. “Well that night… the whole time, he kept trying to say he loves me.” 

“Trying?” Margaery’s eyebrow was back up. 

“I stopped him. I knew what he was going to say, but I can’t hear that right now.” 

Maragery’s eyebrow rose impossibly higher, and Sansa repeated the little speech she’d given Robb earlier. 

“Darling…” Margaery reached out and clasped Sansa’s hands in each of hers. “I’ve known Sandor for years. He has a temper on him, that’s true, but that man couldn’t hurt a fly.” 

“He called me a whore, Marg.” Sansa whispered. “I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.” 

“So don’t. Talk to him. Tell him how it made you feel. If he’s capable of apologizing to anyone, it’s you.” Margaery said earnestly. 

Sansa grimaced and looked away. Sandor _had_ apologized. But she stood by what she’d told him when he did; he said it to hurt her, and she couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d hurt her on purpose, even if he regretted it a minute later. 

“Talk to Ygritte about him.” Margaery spoke suddenly, and Sansa looked around. “She works with him closer than I do, she can tell you more about him than I can.” 

Margaery was looking at her expectantly, so Sansa nodded. Margaery seemed satisfied, and released her hands. 

“So what’s happened since that night? This weekend?” 

Sansa smiled at the other girls' focused need for gossip. “Well on Saturday, he had Tormund come over so they could teach me some self defense stuff. Breaking holds, where to hit, you know? And then Sunday he had to work and I was already asleep when he came home.” 

“So you’ve barely spent any time together? That has to be awkward.” Margaery frowned. 

“It is.” Sansa agreed. “I think he might be avoiding me, honestly, and I can’t say I blame him. What would we even talk about?” 

“Sansa. Are you kidding?” Margaery looked indignant. “You’re doing this whole thing of not trying to be together while you deal with all this legal nonsense, and you’re not trying to get to know him better?” 

“Well…” 

“There’s so much ground for you to cover still! Just talk to him, Sansa, for the love of the Seven! Where did he grow up? What’s his favorite color? What kind of movies does he like? If you want to have a relationship with him when the dust settles, you need to know more than whether or not he’d hit you.” Margaery huffed and took a drink. 

“You’re right.” Sansa sighed. 

“Ooh there’s Robb!” Margaery’s entire demeanor changed in an instant and she sat up straighter. “How do I look?” She fluffed her hair and Sansa laughed. 

“You look great.” Sansa assured her friend, then swiveled in her seat to see Robb approaching with an easy smile on his face. 

“Did your man pick the nicest restaurant in Westeros, or is this the second?” Robb joked as he joined them. 

“He’s not my man…” Sansa mumbled, but Robb and Margaery shared a knowing smirk. 

Robb waved down the bartender, and a moment later the three of them were chatting easily, though Sansa did notice Margaery and Robb touching each other’s arms more often than strictly necessary. 

“Here comes Sandor…” Margaery whispered in a sing-song voice.

Sansa whipped her head around and saw Sandor speaking with the host. She quickly turned back to face Robb and Margaery, but could tell by their expressions that they saw right through her. 

“Table’s not ready yet.” Sandor’s gruff voice rasped from behind her a moment later. 

“Oh, we don’t mind waiting. Do we, Sansa?” Margaery grinned at her. 

Sansa flashed what she knew was a weak frown at Margaery, and relaxed immediately when she felt Sandor’s hand on her shoulder as he ordered a drink. She turned her head slightly to look up at him, and he was looking down at her. The unburnt side of his mouth twitched up in a half smile, and she felt herself blush as she broke his gaze. Her eyes landed on Margaery, who was smirking at her. 

“Ahem. Sandor, this is my brother Robb.” 

Sandor extended his hand to Robb and they exchanged awkward pleasantries. 

“So how was the lawyer?” Sandor asked once he had a drink in hand, squeezing Sansa’s shoulder with his other.

She looked back up at him, but Margaery spoke before she could. 

“Sansa was incredible! She totally put Roose in his place!” 

“It was fun to watch.” Robb agreed. 

“That’s my girl.” Sandor smiled down at her, squeezing her shoulder again. 

Sansa blushed and looked away, seizing her wine glass and taking a long drink. 

“We’re meeting them again tomorrow.” Sansa told him. “So nothings settled yet.” 

“Clegane, party of four?” The smiling host appeared beside them. “Your table is ready, follow me.” 

The group followed the host, Sandor’s hand ghosting over the small of Sansa’s back for a moment. She glanced at him over her shoulder, and he quickly dropped his hand and cleared his throat. The host brought them to a table near the back of the restaurant. The back wall was almost entirely glass, and several doors stood open for access to a patio overlooking the lake. Sansa smiled slightly as she took in the view. 

They reached the table and Sandor pulled her chair out for her, tucking it in as she sat. She flashed him a tentative smile, then Robb caught her eye, raising one eyebrow. She frowned at him, then picked up her menu and tried to read it. 

There were a few minutes of awkward silence around the table as they all perused their menus. The waiter appeared to take their order, and Sansa tapped her fingers nervously against the stem of her wine glass. 

“So… Sandor, how is your research coming?” Margaery asked, and Sansa breathed a small sigh of relief. 

“It’s good.” Sandor bobbed his head, then took a drink. 

“Sandor is a plastic surgeon at Winter Town hospital.” Margaery told Robb, touching his arm as he spoke. 

Robb made an interested noise and turned to Sandor, who didn’t appear to be planning on saying more. Margaery looked at him expectantly, raising her eyebrow and inclining her head, and Sandor huffed. 

“I’m researching healing time for kids with burns.” Sandor explained, pushing a hand through his hair. “I recently partnered with a psychiatrist, the results should be pretty interesting.” 

“What is it you’re hoping to find?” Robb asked conversationally. 

Sandor huffed a dark chuckle. “I’m hoping to find a way to keep more kinds from having fucked up faces.” He waved a hand over the burned side of his face. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Robb said awkwardly, running a hand through his own hair. 

“Don’t be.” Sandor grunted. 

They fell into another awkward silence, and Sansa wracked her brain for something to say, a neutral topic, but came up empty. 

“It was Sansa who suggested I partner with a psych.” Sandor spoke suddenly. 

“Really?” Robb seemed relieved the moment had passed. “How did you get that idea, San?” 

“She was snooping through my charts.” Sandor smirked at her playfully, and Sansa smacked his arm with the back of her hand. 

“I was not snooping!” She objected, and Sandor and Robb both chuckled. “Okay, I was kind of snooping.” Sansa mumbled, pouting into her glass. 

All three of them laughed, and Sansa pouted harder, though she was secretly relieved the tension seemed to have broken. 

“She had the brilliant idea to pull the social work notes.” Sandor explained, soft eyes on Sansa. “It hadn’t occurred to me that outside influences could have as much impact on healing as the actual medicine.” 

“Good catch, San.” Robb smiled proudly. “So are you working on his research now too?” 

“No,” Sansa waved a hand, willing herself not to blush. “No, I just work in records.” 

“She’ll be credited for her contribution.” Sandor said smoothly, and Sansa whipped her head around to look at him. 

“Sandor… you don’t have to do that.” She murmured, setting a hand on his arm. 

His good cheek turned pink and he cleared his throat. “Actually, I do.” He mumbled. “The board requires the name of anyone who made a significant contribution to the study. Part of the publishing and review process.” 

“Oh.” Sansa blushed, retracting her hand and looking away. 

“What do you do, Robb?” Margaery asked, quickly changing the subject. 

Sansa tried to hold in a sigh as Robb began to prattle on about teaching at the University of Volantis and his dissertation research. 

Of course Sandor wouldn’t credit her unless he had to. Sansa felt foolish. Like a doctor with his reputation would give credit to a lowly records employee who got nosy with his files? It didn’t make sense, even with everything going on between them. Sansa was distracted from her reverie by their food arriving. 

“I actually have a whole chapter on Greyscale and ancient remedies.” Robb said, inclining his head towards Sandor as he shook out his napkin. “Have you seen any cases in your career?” 

“Three.” Sandor nodded. “It’s so rare nowadays, since we have a vaccine for it now.” 

“What is the treatment like in modern medicine?” Robb asked. 

“Unfortunately, quite the same as it was 800 years ago.” Sandor chuckled. “We just use anesthesia now.” 

Robb shook his head sadly. “Is there any research to be done there?” 

Sansa relaxed as the conversation flowed more easily the rest of dinner. Sandor recommended a few articles to Robb, Robb told them more about his research, Margaery told a few stories about the girls from the club, namely Daenerys’s birthday when Yara had given Dany a lapdance. Sansa could tell Robb and Margaery were taken with each other, so she wasn’t surprised when Robb suggested they step onto the balcony for “fresh air,” leaving Sansa and Sandor alone at the table. 

“You look beautiful tonight, little bird.” He rasped from beside her. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, fiddling with the edge of her napkin. 

“You look beautiful every night.” He added after a moment. 

Sansa blushed, but didn’t respond. 

“You know I’d have mentioned your contribution anyways, right?” He asked. “Even if I didn’t have to.” 

“Sandor, that’s not--” 

He waved a hand and smiled slightly. “Don’t lie to me, little bird. You get this little line right here,” he pressed his pinky finger between her eyebrows, “when something hurts your feelings.” 

Sansa felt herself redden and pressed her hand to her forehead. 

“You noticed that?” She squeaked. 

He laughed. “‘Course I did.” He grinned at her. “It’s cute, if I’m being honest.” 

Sansa blushed and ducked her head, then dropped her hand and placed it on Sandor’s arm, smiling slightly. She was just opening her mouth to speak when Robb and Margaery reappeared. 

“Sansa, come to the ladies room with me.” Margaery whispered, tugging on Sansa’s arm. Sansa rolled her eyes and stood, following her friend back to the front of the restaurant. 

“Did you snog my brother?” Sansa asked when the door had swung shut behind them. 

Margaery giggled and winked, then practically skipped into a stall. Sansa rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter while she waited for her friend. 

“What were you and Sandor talking about?” Margaery called. 

“Nothing.” Sansa grimaced. 

“I call bullshit!” Margaery said in a sing-song voice. 

Sansa didn’t respond, and a moment later Margaery emerged from the stall. 

“Don’t go getting shy on me now.” Margaery smirked as she pumped soap into her hands, and nudged Sansa’s hip with her own.

Sansa hesitated and looked at her feet, then raised her eyes back to her friend, who was looking at her expectantly as she washed her hands. 

“Margaery… I’m in love with him.” Sansa whispered. 

Margaery squealed and threw her arms around Sansa, sending soapy water droplets flying everywhere. 

“I knew it!” Margaery cheered. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” 

“Margaery!” Sansa objected. 

“What are you going to do?” Margaery asked, pulling away to look at Sansa’s face. 

“I don’t know.” Sansa wrung her hands. “I just… I don’t know.” 

Margaery sighed and turned away to rinse her hands. She shook the excess water from her hands and grabbed a few paper towels. 

“I don’t know what to do with you, darling.” She shook her head, but smiled. “Both of you are so stubborn.” 

“Am I going to lose him if I wait?” Sansa asked desperately. “I really don’t think I should be starting something new right now, everything with Ramsay and Lyanna…” 

Margaery sighed, then turned back to Sansa and placed her hands on her shoulders. 

“It’s not something new, love. It’s been going on for months now. But no. You won’t lose him if you wait.”

Sansa sighed and nodded, biting her lip and looking away as her mind raced. 

“And yes, I snogged your brother.” 

Sansa gasped and looked up at Margaery, who gave her a cheeky grin and bounced back to the door. The girls giggled as they came back to the table, just in time for the waiter to drop off their dessert. 

Conversation flowed easily between the four of them as they ate dessert, and when the waiter dropped off the bill, Sandor had his credit card out and in the waiter’s hand before the other three could react. 

“Thank you, Sandor.” Sansa murmured, gently setting her hand back on his arm. 

He waved a hand dismissively, looking uncomfortable. Sansa glanced across the table at Robb and saw him smiling slightly. She had the distinct feeling that Robb approved of Sandor, and was sure she’d hear about it tomorrow. 

“Robb, would you like to join me for a walk?” Margaery asked a few moments later. 

He smiled. “Sure. You’ll get home okay, San?” 

“I’ll be fine. You two have fun.” 

Sansa smiled as her brother and best friend stood and left the table. She glanced at Sandor, and noticed he looked uncomfortable again. 

“Sandor?” 

“Do you want to have another drink before we go?” He asked, eyes flashing to hers. 

“Sure.” Sansa nodded, and followed Sandor to the bar. 

He ordered their drinks, and they sat in awkward silence until the bartender set the glasses in front of them. 

“Sansa, I… I need to tell you something.” Sandor murmured. 

Sansa looked around at him, and waited. He glanced at her, then raised his glass to his lips. His hand was trembling. 

“Sandor… What is it?” Sansa asked, reaching across the space between them and setting her hand over his. 

Sandor looked down at their hands, then back at her face. 

“I, uh… I went back to my old therapist.” He spoke slowly, his eyes jumping down to his glass, swirling the dark amber liquid. 

She waited for him to continue, but he bit his lip. 

“Yeah?” She prompted, squeezing his hand. 

“His name is Ray. He calls me on my shit.” He sighed and leaned back, looking away down the end of the bar. 

“That’s good.” Sansa said finally. “I’m happy for you.” 

Sandor grimaced, then took a deep breath. “I’m bad at saying how I feel. I jump to conclusions. Ray said… He told me I need to tell you…” 

His hand clenched around his glass. Sansa scooted her chair closer to his, and placed her other hand over his as well. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” She murmured. 

He met her eye again, and twisted his hand beneath hers, to grip her back. 

“Yes, I do.” He whispered, then sighed. “I lash out when I’m angry, it’s true. And… And you were right to put a stop to whatever this is.” 

Sansa’s heart dropped and she quickly withdrew her hands, looking down at her lap. 

“Hey… Not like that.” He took her hand again. “I can’t be like this around your daughter. I can’t--” 

He looked away just as she looked up, willing tears not to form in her eyes as she searched his face. 

“What do you mean?” She asked softly. 

“The way I treated you. The way I spoke to you. And I didn’t say it to hurt you, Sansa, that’s not why-- I mean I knew that it would and I said it anyways, but that makes it worse--” 

He swore under his breath and lifted his glass back to his mouth. 

“Sandor… I truly have no idea what you’re trying to tell me.” 

He turned his head back to her, and they both laughed. The tension between them lessened as they smiled at each other. Sandor looked down and threaded their fingers together as he seemed to consider for a moment. 

“At the hospital, when I called you… well… I didn’t say it to hurt you. I said it because… because I thought my worst fear was coming true.” 

He stood then, and cupped her face in both his hands. 

“I was falling in love with a beautiful woman.” He murmured, tracing his thumbs over her cheekbones. “A woman who wasn’t afraid, who could look me in the eye. I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then I thought it did.” He paused, searching her face as she felt tears well up in her eyes. “I knew it would hurt you. But that’s not why I said it. I said it because I thought it was the truth.” 

“Sandor…” A tear slipped down her cheek, and he brushed it away. 

“That’s just as bad though. That I jumped to the worst, that I didn’t give you a chance to explain. If I ever lost my shit like that in front of your daughter, I’d never forgive myself.” Sandor murmured. 

His eyes were on her lips, then lifted to her eyes as he finished speaking. She lifted one hand to cover his where it rested against her cheek. 

“We never would’ve had that conversation in front of my daughter.” She whispered. 

“We never should’ve had that conversation at all.” He replied with a mirthless smirk. “If I’d just waited, and listened to you…” 

He bit his lip and looked away again, and Sansa lifted her free hand to his cheek, turning his face back towards hers. She looked at him for a long moment before she spoke again. 

“I forgive you.” She whispered. 

His eyes closed and he bowed his head. 

“I forgive you.” She repeated. “I forgive you, Sandor. Thank you for telling me the truth.” 

He met her eyes again, then dropped his hands to her shoulders. He took half a step closer, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to his chest. She snaked her arms around his waist and squeezed him back just as tight. 

“I love you.” He whispered into the crown of her head. 

She didn’t know if he’d meant for her to hear him, but she suspected he didn’t. She twisted her fingers in the fabric of the back of his shirt, and nuzzled her face into his chest. He ran one hand through her hair, gently stroking the back of her head, and she briefly considered saying it back. 

It didn’t feel right though. He hadn’t meant for her to hear it. So instead she said the first thing that came to her mind. 

“Sandor, what’s your favorite color? 

He drew back slightly to look down at her, his brow furrowing slightly in surprise. 

“Yellow. Yours?” 

She smiled up at him. 

“My favorite is yellow, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write, but so fun! I hope you all enjoyed. Please review and let me know!


	26. Chapter 26

Sandor and Sansa walked side by side towards the main entrance of the hospital. Their hands brushed occasionally as they walked, and Sansa bit her lip every time, thinking about just lacing their fingers together. 

She didn’t though. They’d barely spoken since the restaurant the night before, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. She’d had to ask for his help with the little buttons on the back of her collar so she could get her dress off, and she’d been sure he was going to kiss the back of her neck when she felt his hot breath there after he’d loosed the last button, but he’d just cleared his throat and backed away. 

Probably for the best though, she mused, peeking up at him as they came through the double doors. She was running out of reasons to keep him at arm's length, and she probably would’ve spun in his arms and attacked him if he’d touched his lips to her skin. 

“Sansa…” 

He caught her elbow and she turned, furrowing her brow in question. He inclined his head toward the coffee cart she’d just walked by, and guided her over to it. She bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smile as she followed him to the cart. 

“Large black drip for me, and…” he turned toward her. 

“Hazelnut latte, please.” Sansa smiled at the cashier. 

“Something to eat? You skipped breakfast again.” He murmured. 

“No, that’s okay.” 

“Humor me.” He smiled, and she couldn’t stop the grin that split her face this time. 

“Lemon poppyseed muffin, please.” She murmured. 

Sandor paid, and they walked a few steps away to wait for their drinks. 

“Thank you.” She smiled up at him. 

“You’re too fucking polite.” Sandor chuckled. 

Sansa shook her head at him, then stepped forward to accept her drink and muffin from the barista. They walked together towards the elevators, and she raised her eyebrow but didn’t comment when he pushed the ‘down’ button. He followed her into the lift, and she smiled when he pushed the button for the basement. 

“You’re walking me all the way to my desk then?” Sansa asked playfully. 

“Like I told you, little bird, I’m attached to my balls. I told your cousin I wouldn’t leave you alone.” He smirked, and she rolled her eyes. 

“No use arguing?” She asked, as the doors opened again. 

“None.” He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes again as she set off for the records hall, Sandor half a step behind her. 

They reached the doors, and Sandor followed her in. 

“Good morning, Podrick.” Sansa smiled at him as she dropped her bag. 

“Good morning, Sansa. Dr. Clegane.” Pod nodded to each of them. 

Sandor hesitated halfway to her desk, eyes on Pod. 

“How many people at this hospital work at that fucking club?” He asked incredulously, shifting his eyes back to Sansa. 

“Just the three of us, I think.” Margaery spoke as she came in behind Sandor, flashing a dazzling smile. “Good morning, Sandor.” 

“Morning.” He grunted, glowering at her as she reached her own desk. 

Sansa giggled, then turned her eyes back to Sandor, biting her lip. 

“Don’t you have some lives to save or research to do?” She asked as she leaned on the edge of her desk. “Go on, you’ll be late.” 

Sandor hesitated, glanced around at Pod and Margaery, (who both quickly averted their eyes,) then stepped forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His hand curled protectively around the back of her neck, and her hands fell to his chest. Her eyes slipped shut, and she leaned into him without meaning to. 

“Will you be alright with the lawyers today?” He murmured. 

“Yeah, I think so.” She breathed, raising her head to look up at him. 

He smiled slightly, his hand sliding forward to cup her jaw. He traced her cheek with his thumb, and she felt herself turn pink. 

“You’ll call me if anything changes?” It was a statement and a question at once. 

“I will.” She promised. 

His eyes lifted to look at Margaery. “Make her call me if anything changes.” 

“Yes sir.” Margaery saluted without looking up from her computer. 

Sandor narrowed his eyes at her, and Sansa giggled, drawing his attention back to her. His eyes softened, and he smiled again. He seemed to be considering something, but a moment later he turned and left, leaving Sansa staring after him. 

The day flew by, and Sansa felt confident as she and Margaery prepared to leave the hospital. 

“Are you nervous?” Margaery asked as they got in her car, glancing sideways at Sansa. 

“No, not really.” Sansa smiled at her friend. “I don’t know, I just… I have this feeling like everything’s gonna be okay.” 

“That’s because it will.” Margaery smiled confidently. 

They arrived at Umber’s office at the same time as Jon, and the three of them walked in together. Sansa averted her eyes and tried to ignore Robb and Margaery’s flirting as the receptionist led them to the conference room. Sansa rolled her eyes when they both glanced at her, and she plopped into the second seat from the end of the table so they could sit together. 

“Mr. Umber will be with you in a moment, I’ll let him know you’re here.” The receptionist left. 

Margaery and Robb leaned toward each other again, and Sansa fiddled with the strap on her bag absentmindedly. Sandor had been on her mind all day; that kiss on her forehead this morning, after their talk last night had sent a flock of butterflies to her tummy. 

Was a group of butterflies called a flock? Just as Sansa reached for her phone to look it up, Smalljon hurtled into the room, looking distressed. 

“Sansa--” 

Before he could say anything more, Ramsay followed him into the room, a smug smirk on his lips. Sansa’s breath caught and her phone slipped from her fingers. 

“Lovely to see you, wife.” Ramsay grinned at her shocked face. 

“Mr. Bolton, I told you we needed a few minutes before the meeting starts.” Smalljon had turned and extended his arm to prevent Ramsay from coming farther into the room. 

“My apologies, I misunderstood.” Ramsay inclined his head politely to Smalljon as he backed out of the room. 

Smalljon closed the door forcefully behind him, and walked quickly to Sansa’s side. Her hands were trembling, and she was staring open-mouthed at the closed door. 

“Sansa?” Smalljon clicked his fingers in front of her face, and she turned her eyes to him. “Did you hear me, Sansa?” 

“No, sorry.” She whispered, drawing in a shaky breath. 

“Did any of them tell you he’d be here today?” Smalljon repeated his question. 

“No, I hadn’t heard anything.” Sansa shook her head. 

“Is this legal? She has a protection order.” Robb cut in. 

“Unfortunately it is. Meeting in the presence of a lawyer to discuss the situation before the court date for a more permanent order is completely legal. Even if it wasn’t, having him arrested at this point wouldn’t help anything.” Smalljon answered, leaning against the table. 

“What do we do?” Sansa whispered. 

“Realistically, Sansa, this doesn’t change much.” Smalljon assured her. “Him showing up here tells us more than he thinks it does. He’s here to frighten and intimidate you because he knows you have a case.” 

Sansa nodded slowly, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She turned to Robb, who gave her a stern but reassuring nod. Then she turned to Margaery, who was standing on the opposite side of the room, whispering into her phone. 

“Margaery?” Sansa asked. 

She held up one finger to Sansa, nodded to something whoever she spoke to said, then ended the call and returned to her seat. 

“Sandor is on his way.” Margaery told her. 

Sansa felt herself slump in relief. Why hadn’t she thought of that? 

“Can we wait to start until he gets here?” Sansa asked Smalljon. 

He hesitated, then turned to Margaery. “How long will he take?” 

“10, maybe 15 minutes.” 

Smalljon frowned. “We can try, Sansa, but the longer we wait, the more afraid Ramsay will think you are. And Roose will take it as a slight. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” 

Sansa took a deep breath, thinking fast. 

“He can’t hurt you here, Sansa.” Robb reminded her gently, taking her hand. “There’s nothing he can do. You’re safe.” 

Sansa nodded slowly. “Okay. Bring them in.” 

Smalljon squeezed her shoulder, then pushed off the table and left the room. 

“You okay?” Robb asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” Sansa sniffled and cleared her throat, silently congratulating herself for not bursting into tears. 

“You got this.” Margaery smiled at her encouragingly. 

“Thank you for being here. Both of you.” She smiled gratefully at them, and both waved a dismissive hand. 

“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.” Margaery winked and Sansa giggled, shaking her head slightly at her friend. 

The smile dropped from her face when the door of the conference room opened again. Smalljon came in first, and motioned everyone else to the other side of the table. She watched Roose, his lawyer, then Ramsay come in. Her eyes followed Ramsay, and it took her a moment to realize there was a fourth man with them, one she was just as unprepared to see. 

“Uncle Petyr?” Sansa gasped. “What are you doing here?” 

Petyr gave her his trademark simpering smile, and walked all the way around the table to Sansa. Smalljon turned slowly to look at them. Petyr reached for Sansa’s hands, but she drew back. His smile faltered. 

“Don’t worry, sweetling. I’m sure we’ll get to the bottom of this misunderstanding.” He gave her an expectant look. 

Sansa just stared at him in disgust. She opened and shut her mouth several times, but no words came out. 

“Take a seat, please, Mister…?” Smalljon walked forward. 

“ _Senator_ Baelish.” He didn’t take his eyes off Sansa as he took a few steps back, then seated himself at the end seat of the table. 

Sansa had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. He literally didn’t pick a side. 

Smalljon cleared his throat and sat in the empty seat between Sansa and Petyr. Sansa turned to look at Robb, and was almost relieved to see him regarding their uncle with the same disgust and apprehension she did. Robb’s eyes flicked back to hers, and he squeezed her shoulder. 

“I gather you’ve had time to discuss the offer Sansa made, and assume you’ve shared it with Mr. Bolton?” Smalljon addressed the other lawyer. 

“No offer matters but the one we’re making to Miss Stark.” The lawyer responded with a smirk. “The Bolton’s are willing to increase their offer to 30 dragons per month for child support if Miss Stark agrees to the rest of the terms of that agreement.” 

“No.” Sansa said at once. 

Ramsay leaned forward and laced his fingers together on the table. “Mr. Umber, would you like to take a moment to counsel your client? The generosity of this offer is unheard of.” 

Smalljon gave Ramsay an incredulous look, then turned back to his lawyer. “Miss Stark declines your _generous_ offer.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Mr. Bolton, for the sake of my own peace of mind as you were not present yesterday, I’m going to tell you the details of _Miss Stark’s_ generous offer.” 

A dark look crossed Ramsay’s face, and he leaned back again. Sansa bit her lip to keep from smiling. 

“Miss Stark is seeking full legal and physical custody and no financial support. She is seeking a divorce from Mr. Bolton. She is seeking Mr. Bolton’s parental rights to be terminated. She is willing to drop all criminal charges, and is willing to sign a nondisclosure agreement.” Smalljon read from his folder. “What say you, Mr. Bolton?” 

“What criminal charges?” Ramsay spat, raising his eyebrow. 

“Domestic battery, stalking, and forcible rape, to get started. Miss Stark’s friend Ygritte, who your goons attempted to kidnap from Molestown, has agreed she will drop charges as well if you accept this offer.” 

There was a soft tap on the door before anyone could respond, and the secretary poked her head in the room. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Umber. Miss Stark’s witnesses are here.” 

She stepped aside, and Sandor and Tormund came into the room. Sansa felt lighter as soon as Sandor met her eyes. His gaze moved just as quickly away, taking the measure of Roose, Ramsay, Petyr, and their lawyer. 

Tormund dropped himself into the end seat opposite Petyr, while Sandor made his way around the room to stand behind Sansa. 

“This is Dr. Gianstbane and Dr. Clegane.” Smalljon introduced them to the Bolton’s. “Helda, will you bring another chair for Dr. Clegane?” He addressed the secretary. 

Sandor waved her off. “I’d rather stand.” He placed his hands on the back of Sansa’s chair. 

The secretary, Helda, nodded and left the room quickly. Sansa shot Sandor a grateful look over her shoulder. He nodded subtly, then lifted his eyes back to glare at Ramsay. She glanced at Tormund, who had made himself comfortable and was swinging back and forth in his chair. 

“Miss Stark’s witnesses for what?” Roose asked, his eyes flicking between the newcomers. 

“They were both there when Ramsay threatened Miss Stark at her workplace last week.” Smalljon said, barely containing a smile. 

Roose shot a glare down the table at Ramsay. Sansa felt her anger flare again. So it was okay to threaten and stalk her, and only when Roose found out about the witnesses was he angry with his son? 

Ramsay and his lawyer continued to argue back and forth with Smalljon, Petyr watching on with interest. 

“If you want to make up charges against me, Sansa, why don’t we charge you with the kidnapping of our daughter?” Ramsay shot at her. 

“I didn’t kidnap Lyanna.” Sansa glared at him. 

“You left with her in the middle of the night, you still won’t tell me where she is or let me see her.” Ramsay argued. “What exactly would you call that if not kidnapping?” 

“You didn’t even call after I left.” Sansa answered, hating how weak and hurt she sounded. She felt so stupid for still being upset that he hadn’t worried about her when she disappeared. 

“This isn’t helping anything.” Smalljon cut in. “Sansa has declined your offer. Do you accept hers?” 

“No.” Ramsay answered. 

“Then we’ll see you in court.” Smalljon stood, effectively ending the meeting. “As of this moment, you are in violation of the emergency protection order Miss Stark has against you. Kindly leave the premises.” 

Roose and his lawyer stood and walked towards the door, but stopped when they’d noticed Ramsay and Petyr hadn’t moved. 

Ramsay was leaning back in his chair, studying Sansa. She shifted slightly under his scrutiny. 

“If you make me take you to court, I’m coming for everything, wife.” Ramsay spoke quietly, but everyone in the room froze. “Full legal and physical custody, no visitation, and full support. You won’t have anything left to give by the time I’m done with you.” 

Ramsay rose slowly, his eyes never leaving Sansa’s. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, my darling wife. You can still come home to me. Think about it; you could be with Lyanna every single day. I’ll take care of you.” 

Ramsay shot her an evil grin, then left the room. Petyr hesitated, then followed. The door clicked shut behind them, and everyone in the room turned to Sansa. Her hands were shaking again, and she barely registered that it seemed everyone in the room was talking. 

“Tormund, follow them.” She heard Margaery say across the room. “Make sure they leave, then come back.” 

Tormund left the room quickly, and Sansa blinked. Sandor was kneeling in front of her, holding both her hands. Margaery appeared over his shoulder and wrapped her arms around Sansa’s shoulders, squeezing her tightly. Smalljon and Robb stood near the door, speaking quickly about what their new plan would be. 

And Sansa sat there, realizing that tears were rolling freely down her cheeks. 

She pulled her hands away from Sandor’s to wipe her eyes, and Margaery released her as well. 

“It’s okay, Sansa.” Margaery said, rubbing her back soothingly. 

“Can we get out of here?” Sansa whispered, looking between Sandor and Margaery. 

“As soon as Tormund gets back.” Sandor promised quietly, his hands now on her knees. “What do you need, little bird? What can I do?” 

“Lyanna.” Sansa whispered. “I need to see Lyanna.” 

Sandor nodded, then stood and walked to Robb. Sanda turned to Margaery, and hugged her. 

“What am I going to do?” She whispered into her friend’s shoulder. 

“You’re going to put that cocky piece of shit in prison for hurting you.” Margaery said, squeezing her tight. “Don’t worry, Sansa, he won’t win.” 

“Little bird?” 

Sansa lifted her face from Margaery’s shoulder and quickly accepted Robb’s phone from Sandor, wiping stray tears from her eyes again as she lifted the phone in front of her. 

“I’m sorry San, she’s taking a nap.” Arya said, and Sansa’s face fell. “Just put yourself on mute, I’ll go in there and you can look at her, okay?” 

“Okay.” Sansa nodded. 

She leaned against Sandor, who immediately put an arm around her to pull her closer and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. She hit the mute button, and let her cheek fall to rest against Sandor’s chest as she waited. 

A moment later she heard a door open, and Arya flipped the camera around to show her Lyanna’s sleeping form. 

“Lyanna… are you still sleeping?” She heard Arya ask softly as she approached the bed. 

The toddler yawned and stretched her arms above her head, mumbling a quiet “uh-huh.” Sansa pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, and Sandor gave her a gentle squeeze. 

Arya pulled the blankets up to Lyanna’s chin. “Nighty-night, Lyanna.” 

“Nigh-nigh, Yaya.” Lyanna replied sleepily, burrowing into her covers. 

Arya retreated, and a moment later the camera flipped back around. “I promise I’ll call you as soon as she gets up, okay?” 

Sansa unmuted. “Okay, Arya. Thank you. Is she doing okay?” 

Sansa spoke to her sister for a few more minutes, clinging to Sandor the whole time while he gently rubbed her back or stroked her hair, before Tormund came back and declared that “the cunts were gone.” 

Sansa quickly ended the call and scooped up her bag, then let Sandor lead her from the office. She didn’t realize that Margaery, Robb, and Tormund had followed until they got to the elevator. 

“You’re sure they left?” Sandor pressed Tormund. 

“The one that looks like a weasel walked a different way, but the Bolton’s and their lawyer are gone for sure.” Tormund nodded. “I looked around for the other one, but I didn’t see him lurking anywhere.” 

Sansa looked up at Sandor, and he tightened his arm around her slightly. The group made it to the lobby and walked outside together. Sandor was leading her to his truck, when a voice called out behind them. 

“Sansa, sweetling?” 

Sandor looked over his shoulder, then down at Sansa. 

“We have somewhere to be, Uncle Petyr.” She heard Robb say. 

Sandor skidded to a halt. 

“Uncle Petyr?” He repeated quietly, turning to look at the man. 

“I need to speak to her, Robb.” Petyr insisted, trying to brush by her brother. “I need to get to the bottom of all this confusion.” 

“That’s your uncle?” Sandor pointed to him, as Margery and Tormund caught up to them. “That’s the uncle that sold you to that cockless piece of shit?” 

“Yes, it is. Sandor, please don’t-- Sandor!” 

In a second Sandor had released her arms and started back towards Petyr, hands balled into fists and rage radiating off of him. 

“Sandor, don’t!” Sansa called after him. 

“Clegane!” Tormund started after him. 

Sansa made to follow, but Margaery caught her arm and held her back. 

“Clegane!” Tormund caught up to Sandor and leapt in front of him, throwing his arms wide to stop him. “Step back, Clegane, this won’t help anything.” 

“Get out of my fucking way!” Sandor bellowed at him, pushing against Tormund to get to Petyr. 

Sansa started to cry again. “Sandor, please! Stop it!” 

“Calm down! Don’t do this here!” Tormund shouted back. “Turn around!” 

Sansa clutched at Margaery’s arm to keep from falling to her knees. Sandor was still pushing against Tormund, Tormund holding his ground. Petyr had begun to retreat, and Sandor pushed harder against Tormund. 

“I said fucking move, Wildling! This doesn’t concern you!” Sandor pushed Tormund again, harder, and Tormund grunted and fell back a step. 

Tormund found his footing, and threw his chest against Sandor’s, knocking him back a few feet. While Sandor stumbled, Tormund grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face Sansa. 

“Look what you’re doing to her!” Tormund bellowed, pointing to Sansa. 

Sansa gasped and did fall to her knees once she saw Sandor. The rage in his eyes made him wild, dangerous. He was shaking, his hands balled into fists and every muscle taut with restraint. His teeth were bared in a snarl that sent a chill down her spine. 

For the first time, she saw Sandor as he saw himself. Furious, ugly, and dangerous. 

And it was terrifying. 

“Oh no.” Sansa whispered, her hand falling from Margaery’s arm. “No.” 

“Sansa?” Margaery knelt next to her. 

She watched as the rage drained from Sandor’s eyes, as his posture relaxed, as his scowl vanished and became concern. But she couldn’t un-see what he had been a moment before. 

“No.” She shook her head frantically as she scrambled to her feet. 

“Sansa…” Sandor took a step forward, and Sansa took three steps back. 

“No. I have to go.” Sansa stammered. “Margaery? Please, I need to go.” 

Margaery threw a glare over her shoulder at Sandor as she hurried to Sansa’s side. She put an arm around her and led her away, back to her car. 

“Little bird, wait!” 

“Let her go, Clegane.” She heard Tormund say. 

“What the fuck was that, man? Are you kidding?” Robb asked him. 

She didn’t hear Sandor respond, and quickened her pace. They reached Margaery’s car, and both got in quickly. Margaery didn’t even put on her seatbelt before the car was on and they were driving away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the wait! And for, you know, ruining everything again. Please comment and let me know what you think!!


	27. Chapter 27

Sun streaming in the open windows woke Sansa. She stretched her arms above her head, and slowly sat up. A glance to her right showed that Lyanna’s bed was empty, so Sansa swung her legs out of bed and went to find her daughter. 

She heard the TV as soon as she opened the door, and found Arya, Gendry, and Lyanna on the living room floor. 

“Look who finally decided to join us, Lee!” Arya said playfully. 

“Mama!” 

Sansa scooped her daughter into her arms before she could latch on to her legs, settling her on her hip. 

“How did you get so big?” Sansa cooed, smoothing Lyanna’s wild curly hair down. 

“Coffee, Sansa?” Gendry asked, pushing himself to his feet. 

“Thanks, Gendry.” 

Sansa sat on the couch, and released Lyanna when she started wiggling wildly. Sansa smiled at her daughter, then turned to Arya. 

“Where’s Robb?” She asked. 

“Still in bed.” Arya answered. “He was up late though, talking to your friend.” 

Sansa gave a noncommittal hum as she accepted a steaming mug from Gendry. 

“Are you feeling any better today?” Arya asked in a carefully nonchalant tone. 

“A little.” Sansa murmured, letting the steam warm her face. 

“Are you ready to tell me what happened yet?” 

“Robb didn’t tell you?” Sansa raised an eyebrow. 

“He did.” Arya nodded. “But I’d like to hear from you.” 

Sansa sighed, then pushed off the couch. “Come on, then.” 

She led her sister through the kitchen and out the back door onto Robb’s patio, Grey Wind hurtling between their legs to get outside. The morning was crisp and clear, just like she’d always imagined Volantis would be like. She and Robb had been back for three days, and Sansa had refused to discuss Sandor, Ramsay, Petyr, or anything else. 

The sisters sat together at the table on the deck. Arya watched Grey Wind run the perimeter of the yard with a soft smile, then turned to Sansa expectantly. 

“It’s over between me and Sandor.” Sansa said finally. 

Arya’s eyebrow rose. “You’d already said that.” 

“No, it’s… it’s really, really over now.” 

“Why?” 

Sansa sighed, then explained to Arya how Sandor had gone after Petyr five days previously, and how much it had scared her. 

“That was all the proof I needed, you know? He’s violent when he gets angry. I can’t be with someone like that again.” Sansa finished, wiping angrily at her eyes with the heel of her hand. 

“Even though Petyr deserves to be beaten bloody?” Arya asked. 

Sansa glanced sideways. “Yes. What if he got that angry with me, Arya? Or with Lyanna?” 

Arya nodded thoughtfully, turning her attention back to Grey Wind. Sansa leaned back in her chair, taking another long sip of coffee. 

“So what will you do now?” Arya asked finally. 

“I’m pressing charges against Ramsay for attacking me.” Sansa answered. “And Ygritte is pressing charges for the attempted kidnapping. Smalljon says if we can get Ramsay convicted and in prison, then the divorce and terminating his rights will go off without a hitch.” 

Arya nodded again. “How long are you staying in Volantis?” 

“I might never go back.” Sansa whispered. 

“The fuck do you mean, never go back?” Arya snapped, sitting up straighter. 

“It doesn’t feel safe there anymore.” Sansa shrugged. She’d known since she got on the plane that she didn’t want to go back, but she hadn’t voiced it out loud yet. 

“But you’ve only just come home!” Arya objected. “Sansa, what the hell are you talking about? You can’t leave again.” 

“What other choice do I have, Arya?” Sansa asked, turning to face her sister. “Best case scenario, Ramsay goes to prison for 10, maybe 15 years. Then what? Then he’s out, and he’s free to find me and Lyanna again. Going home was stupid, I shouldn’t have done that in the first place. He knew exactly where to find me as soon as he decided to look.” 

Arya opened and closed her mouth several times, then slumped back in her seat. 

“I’ve never understood you all, just leaving like that.” Arya muttered. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Jon went to Molestown. Robb came here. You went to King's Landing. Rickon went to Skagos. Bran went north of the wall. I was the only one who stayed.” Arya looked straight ahead as she spoke, refusing to meet Sansa’s eye. “I don’t understand how you all just left and never looked back.” 

Sansa couldn’t think of anything to stay. She’d never imagined that her fierce handful of a little sister might’ve been lonely, or wished they’d all stayed. But it was clear now; Arya missed her family. 

"I didn't leave and never look back." Sansa objected quietly after a few moments. "I always looked back. I always wondered if I was doing the right thing. I always wondered if I should come home." 

"Well you should've." Arya spat. "You should've come home long before you did. And leaving again should be the last fucking thing on your mind." 

"Arya…" 

“Let her be.” 

Arya and Sansa both snapped their heads around, and saw Robb leaning against the doorframe. 

“Go inside, Arya.” Robb instructed quietly as he stepped outside. 

Arya glared at Sansa, then rose to her feet and stalked inside with her head held high. Robb watched her go, then took her vacated seat. 

“Do you ever get the feeling…” Robb started, “when Arya’s pissed off, that father is standing right behind her?”

Sansa snorted into her mug. “Constantly.” 

“Sometimes it feels like I’ll never do anything right,” Robb murmured. Sansa turned towards him, but his eyes were far away. “It feels like mother and father are right over my shoulder, counting on me to look after the rest of you. And what the fuck do I know about looking after you all? Not shit.” 

Robb chuckled, and stroked a hand down his face. 

“Sometimes it feels like it’s all on me.” He continued. “I can’t hardly make decisions for myself, but it’s my responsibility to steer the rest of you in the right direction. How the fuck does that make any sense?”

Sansa smiled and reached out, placing a hand on her brother's arm. 

“We’re not your responsibility, Robb.” She said quietly. “We’ll all live our own lives.” 

“I just want to make them proud.” Robb admitted, still not looking at her. 

“You have.” Sansa assured him. “They would be so proud of you, Robb. Look at you! You have this wonderful life in Volantis, but you still come running home as soon as we need you. You’re everything they wanted you to be, and more.” 

“I’m not.” Robb folded one of his feet beneath himself. “They would’ve wanted me to lead the rest of you, to be an example. How can I lead you when I don’t even know what to say?” 

Sansa sighed. 

“Mother and father wanted us to be okay.” She said finally. “They wanted us to be safe, and to make good decisions. If they were alive today, they wouldn’t hold you accountable for what the rest of us have done.” 

Robb hummed softly, then turned to Sansa. 

“What do you think they’d tell you to do now?” He asked. 

Sansa smiled. “Mother would tell me to protect Lyanna at all cost.” She said. “Father would remind me that the only time you can be brave is when you’re afraid. They’d tell me that the only way to let them down is giving up.” 

Robb smiled. “And deciding not to go home, what would they say about that?” 

Sansa glanced sideways at her brother. “They’d tell me that no one can take my home from me unless I let them.” 

“Aye.” Robb agreed. 

Sansa thought he’d continue, but he fell silent. 

“You think I should go home, then?” She pressed after a moment. 

Robb grinned. “I think that mother would want you as close to home as possible. I think that father would roll his eyes if a Bolton ever thought to threaten him.” 

“So you do think I should go home?” 

Robb leaned over and took her hand. “I think only you can decide what’s best for your family.” He told her. “I think that the only opinion that matters is yours. So tell me, Sansa. Are you willing to fight for your happiness? Or are you going to run, and hope you stumble across it somewhere else?” 

Sansa stared at her brother for a long moment, then scoffed. “You’re the worst.” 

Robb laughed. “Aye, I am that.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching Grey Wind chasing and snapping at a butterfly. 

“What about Sandor?” Robb asked after a while.

Sansa stiffened. “What about him?” 

“Seems you’ve decided he’s not for you.” Robb shrugged. 

“And what makes you think that?” Sansa challenged. 

“You haven’t spoken to him.” Robb replied. “Has he tried to contact you?” 

“Every day.” Sansa answered. “I haven’t been taking his calls, I haven’t said anything to him.” 

“Why not?” 

Sansa sighed and glared at her brother. “You saw him that day, Robb.”

“Aye, I saw him put everything on the line to defend the woman he loves.” Robb nodded. 

Sansa narrowed her eyes. 

“He’s fierce, and he has rage bottled inside him.” Robb continued. “But would it have been better if he hadn’t reacted at all? Uncle Petyr sold you. I had half a mind to beat him into the dirt myself.” 

“What if he got angry with me?” Sansa repeated her earlier words to Arya. 

“Do you plan on selling anybody?” Robb shot back without hesitation. 

“That’s not the point.” She hissed. 

Robb shrugged. “Maybe it should be.”

Sansa huffed and turned away from her brother. They were quiet for several minutes before Robb spoke again. 

“Jon and Ygritte will be back in Winter Town this afternoon.” He told her. 

“Why?” 

“No point in being up there now that Ramsay knows Ygritte was a decoy.” Robb shrugged. “You need your family close right now.” 

“But I’m not even there.” Sansa objected quietly. 

“You will be.” Robb finally turned to meet her eye again. “You can’t fight this battle from halfway around the world. You have to go back, at least for a while. And if you decide to leave after that, Arya will get over it. She’ll forgive you.” 

Sansa looked away again. “I can’t bring Lyanna back there, not while Ramsay’s around.” 

“I know.” Robb agreed. “I’ll stay here with Lyanna, Arya and Gendry will go back with you.” 

Sansa fell silent again. The idea of being away from Robb again so soon made her heart feel heavy. 

“I feel like mum and dad are standing behind you, too.” She said finally. “Like they’re nodding along, looking at me like I’m an idiot for making you tell me what I already know.” 

Robb chuckled. “I feel like mum is standing right behind you. She was fierce, she fought for her family. You’re the same way.” 

“Do you ever wonder how we’re so like them when we had so little time with them?” 

“Aye, but they raised us well.” Robb smiled. 

“Not me.” Sansa dropped her eyes down to her mug. “They tried, but I didn’t listen. Went out on my own and got myself in one shitty situation after another. I don’t have their strength.” 

Robb scoffed, and Sansa’s head snapped up to glare at him. 

“What?” She demanded. 

“You see the good in people, like father. You trust people to behave honorably, like father. You fight for your family, like mum. You don’t let people walk on you, like mum.” Robb ticked off on his fingers as he spoke. 

Sansa was the one to scoff now. “I don’t let people walk on me? Is that how I ended up abused, sold, and abused again?” 

“You think that Arya could’ve survived that?” Robb asked, eyebrows raised. “You think that she could’ve bided her time, found the right moment to escape? Do you think she wouldn’t be in prison for slitting Joffrey’s throat?” 

“Arya never would’ve fallen for him in the first place.” Sansa spat, tears welling in her eyes. 

“Sansa, stop it.” Robb leaned forward. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’re a Stark.” 

Sansa leaned back in her seat. 

“I’ll go back.” She said finally. “I’ll put Ramsay away for what he did to me. After that… I don’t know.” 

“That’s enough for now.” Robb smiled. “One step at a time.” 

Sansa smiled at her brother, and they both turned back to the yard, where Grey Wind was chasing his tail. 

“What about Sandor?” Robb asked. 

“What about him?” 

“Are you going to give him another chance?” 

Sansa sighed. “I can’t. I can’t take that chance again.” 

Robb smiled again. “Is falling in love ever not a risk?” 

Sansa frowned. 

“I know you’re afraid.” Robb softened his voice slightly. “I don’t blame you. But can I tell you what I saw?” 

Sansa nodded once, not trusting her voice due to the lump forming in her throat. 

“I saw a man who dropped everything and came to your side the moment you needed him.” Robb said. “I saw a man defending your honor. I saw a man who put his life, his career, everything on the line, to serve justice to someone who wronged you. I saw a man who calmed at once when he realized how afraid you were. Do you really think he could ever hurt you?” 

A tear slipped down Sansa’s cheek. “I don’t know.” She whispered. 

“You don’t?” Robb raised his eyebrows again. 

Sansa shook her head and looked away, biting her lip. Robb sighed and stretched his feet out in front of him. 

“People like Sandor are rare, Sans. You don’t just meet them every day.” Robb said. 

Sansa glanced at him, but didn’t respond. 

“You’ll do what’s right.” Robb said a few moments later, reaching down to scratch Grey Wind’s ears when he came running back to the deck. “You always do. You know why?” He looked back at her. 

Sansa gave him a watery smile. “Because I’m a Stark?” 

Robb grinned. “Because you’re a Stark.” 

***

Sansa and Arya were out shopping when Smalljon called. 

“How’s Volantis?” He asked. 

“It’s fine.” Sansa said, passing Lyanna to her sister so she could slip away to speak privately. “It’s good, actually, it’s nice to get away for awhile.” 

“That’s great, Sansa. Now on to business, I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” 

She heard the rustling of papers as she walked quickly to the front of the store. 

“What do you have to tell me?” Sansa asked, trying not to sound impatient. 

“Are you sitting down?” Smalljon asked. 

Sansa skidded to a halt in alarm outside the store. “No?” 

He chuckled. “Ramsay has been arrested and charged on all counts.” 

Sansa sobbed in relief, throwing her hand out to catch herself on the side of the building when she swayed. 

“Say that one more time.” She breathed. 

She could hear the smile in his voice when he repeated himself. “Ramsay has been arrested and charged on all counts. And Sansa, that’s not all.” 

Sansa sank to the ground. “I’m sitting now.” 

“He’s being held without bond. You and your daughter can come home.” 

Sansa burst into tears. Several people gave her curious looks as they hurried past her, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. She must be quite a spectacle, after all, on her knees in front of a grocery store, sobbing into the phone. 

“We can come home?” She croaked finally, mopping at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Come home, Sansa. You’re safe.” 

She was still sobbing on the ground when Arya appeared with Lyanna a few minutes later. 

“Sansa what happened?” Arya demanded, kneeling in front of her. “What’s wrong?” 

Sansa shook her head and clutched her sister's arm. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Arya. Everything’s fine.” Sansa’s voice was breaking, tears streaming down her face, but she beamed at her sister as she relayed the information from Smalljon. 

Arya grinned back, and leaned forward to hug her. Sansa clung to her sisters narrow shoulders, still sobbing with relief. 

“Alright, pull yourself together, woman. People are staring.” Arya chided a moment later, making Sansa laugh. 

“Since when do you care?” She teased, rising back to her feet. 

“Since right now, someone’s pointing at us while they talk to a security guard. Let’s go.” 

Sansa laughed again, then lifted Lyanna out of the shopping cart. 

“We’re going home, darling.” She told her daughter, kissing her forehead. “We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Suck on that, Ramsay! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please please please review and let me know what you think!


	28. Chapter 28

_“Oh!” Sansa gasped. “Sandor, oh gods…”_

_She heard Sandor groan from his position between her thighs, and she wound her fingers into his hair, holding him tight against her._

_“That feels so good, Sandor, don’t stop.” She whimpered, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as her toes curled._

_“I’ve missed you, little bird. Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Sandor somehow spoke without moving his mouth from her folds, and Sansa shuddered._

_“I’ve missed you too.” She gasped. “So much.”_

_He pulled away from her and crawled up the bed. Sansa let out a frustrated groan, and Sandor smiled at her as he slipped a hand between her legs. Not a half smile, or a smirk, but a true, open smile that touched his eyes. She sighed in relief when his fingers found her clit, teasing her with slow, light circles. She lifted her hips up, grinding herself against his hand, and he breathed a soft chuckle as he leaned down to kiss her._

_“I’ve missed you more.” He murmured, ghosting feather-light kisses over her cheeks and eyelids._

_Sansa smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, wiggling closer to him._

_“You haven’t answered my calls.” It wasn’t a question, or an accusation. Just a statement. He met her gaze steadily._

_“I know.” She replied softly._

_“Are you afraid of me now?” His face was neutral, but she could see the vulnerability behind his eyes. His hand slid down and he pressed a finger into her. Sansa’s back arched, but she held his gaze._

_“Yes.” She answered truthfully._

_His head cocked slightly to the side. “Don’t you know I’d never hurt you?” He asked._

_“I wish I could be sure.” Sansa shook her head slightly. “But I can’t.”_

_He leaned down to kiss her neck, nuzzling his face into her hair._

_“Everyone’s afraid of me.” He whispered in her ear. “No one would ever hurt you again, or I’d kill them.”_

_“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Sansa groaned as he resumed rubbing her clit with the heel of his hand. “I can’t be with someone who’s dangerous.”_

_“I wouldn’t be dangerous to you.” He countered at once. “I’d keep you safe."_

_They held each other's gaze for a long moment, his fingers still lazily pumping in and out of her, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit with every stroke._

_"You believe me." He murmured, leaning closer. "I can see it in your eyes. You know I'd never hurt you."_

_"I want to believe." Sansa answered, lifting her head up to kiss him._

_He pulled back before she could make contact. "In your heart, you do. In your heart, you know that I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to. It's your head that's in the way."_

_"My head has to protect my heart." She countered. "My heart has only gotten me into trouble."_

_Sandor shifted so he was no longer lying beside her, but on top of her. His hand moved from between her legs and she felt him line up his cock to her entrance. His hands then pressed into the mattress on either side of her head, caging her in, and he leaned down close to her again._

_"I know I lost your trust." He murmured. "I'll do anything to get it back."_

_Sansa wrapped her legs around his hips as he began to press into her. She threw her head back and let out a long moan. Sandor ducked his head down and began to lick and suck at her neck, and Sansa’s hands flew up to grip his biceps. Their hips rocked slowly together, perfectly in sync._

_"You feel so good, my beautiful little bird." Sandor rasped against her lips, kissing her softly. "You take me to the seventh Heaven with your sweet cunt."_

_She was close already, she could feel the heat coiling in her belly. Her nails pierced Sandor’s skin where she clung to him, she was so close, so--_

Sansa bolted upright on the couch, heart pounding. She looked around wildly, loose hair clinging to her sweaty forehead and shoulders, and she glowered at her phone when she realized her alarm had woken her. She swore quietly as she scooped it off the coffee table and silenced the tinkling alarm, then dropped it onto the couch next to her. 

She had been back from Volantis for almost a week, and she’d dreamt of Sandor every night. He had stopped calling and texting, and the first day without a text was the first night she’d dreamt of him. 

Sansa pushed her sweaty hair away from her face and stood. She didn’t have time today for her thoughts to linger on Sandor; she’d rescheduled her first therapy appointment with Ray for this morning. She quickly showered and dressed, and was promptly shooed out of Arya and Gendry’s house so she would be on time. 

The entire drive was spent daydreaming other ways she could’ve spent her morning, but she’d promised too many people she would go to therapy to back out now. And lying about it wasn’t an option, she was a terrible liar. 

She’d opted to see Ray at his private practise, rather than the hospital, and the drive across town was long in early morning traffic. Still, she reached the building and wasn’t ready to go inside. She heaved a heavy sigh and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head, fiddling with the ends of her hair. 

Finally, she got out of the car and went inside. She checked in with a perky receptionist, then plopped into a seat in the small waiting room. She picked a magazine at random from the table next to her chair, but hadn’t had time to pretend to read it before the door next to reception opened and Ray called her name. 

She forced a smile as she stood, and let Ray usher her down a long hallway to a comfortable looking office. She hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment, and Ray gave her a kind smile as he gestured for her to sit on a couch. He sat opposite her and smiled.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me. And rescheduling.” Sansa said finally. 

“It’s not a problem at all, Sansa. How are you doing?” He asked. 

“I’m good.” She replied automatically. Ray lifted one eyebrow, and Sansa sighed. “I’m a mess.” She amended. “I’m a complete mess. I feel stuck.” 

Without even realizing how it happened, Sansa began pouring her heart out. She told Ray everything. The story was disjointed, bouncing around from her time with Joff to her time with Ramsay, going back to what happened with Petyr, and everything with Sandor. Ray didn't react much, except the occasional nod or incline of his head. 

"And now Ramsay is in jail, I'm back at work, and everything should be fine now but it's not and I don't know how to fix it." Sansa dragged in a deep breath and fixed her gaze back on Ray. "So what do I do?" 

Ray smiled. "What do you want to do?"

Sansa frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"What do you want to do?" Ray repeated. "If things need to be fixed, how do you want them?" 

Sansa stared at him with her mouth hanging open for a long moment, and Ray chuckled. 

"Sansa…" he moved his notebook from his leg and set it on the table beside him, then leaned forward. "For the first time in your adult life, you're in the driver's seat. What you do, where you go, who you're with, it's all up to you. So, what do you want?" 

"I… I don't know." Sansa answered. 

Ray's smile widened. "You've taken an important step today, coming here and telling me your story. I get the feeling you've never done that before." 

Sansa grimaced, and Ray chuckled again. 

"Spend some time thinking about what you want this week, and we'll talk about it at your next appointment." Ray offered. 

Sansa nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay…" 

She picked up her bag off the floor and stood. Ray walked her back out to the waiting room where she made her next appointment, then left and returned to her car. Her heart was pounding and her hands were clammy. She stuffed the appointment reminder card in her visor before her sweaty hands could smudge the ink, and tried to shake off the thrill she felt at the idea that she was in control as she drove to the hospital. 

***

 _You can do this,_ Sansa told herself. _Just open the door and walk in._

She took a deep breath and reached for the handle, but her hand stopped of it’s own volition before she touched it. Sansa cursed quietly and dropped her hand, turning away from the door. 

_It’s not a big deal,_ she told herself again. _Just go in, get what you need, and leave._

She turned back to her apartment door, glaring at it, as she mustered all her courage to go inside. She took another deep breath, then entered the apartment before she could lose her nerve again. She slammed the door shut behind her, and slowly turned around. 

Everything was just as she’d left it. Her stomach turned when her eyes fell on the couch, the one Ramsay had bent her over. Sansa averted her eyes and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She walked down the hall into her room and started throwing her clothes into bags. 

An hour later, tears were streaming down her cheeks as she finished packing Lyanna’s clothes. She shouldn’t have come here by herself. Jon and Arya had both tried to come with her, and she’d insisted she could handle it. Sansa laughed mirthlessly as she moped her eyes with her sleeves. _I’m handling it, alright._

Her phone pinged with a text from Margaery, and Sansa hurried to the door to buzz her into the building without reading it. A few moments later, there was a soft knock on the door. Sansa opened it, and her heart jumped to her throat. 

Margaery and Tormund were on the other side, as she'd expected, but Sandor was with them instead of Beric. 

"Oh, darling…" Margaery said sympathetically when she saw Sansa’s tear stained face, stepping forward to embrace her. 

"I'm fine." Sansa sniffed, pulling away to wipe her eyes. "These bags here are ready to go." She pointed to the stack next to the door. 

"Boys." Margaery clicked her fingers and jerked her head towards the pile, then took Sansa's hand and led her back to her bedroom. "I'm sorry." She whispered after she shut the door. "Beric got pulled into surgery, I didn't know Sandor was coming instead until I got here." 

"It's fine." Sansa waved a hand dismissively, then crossed the room to her mirror to clean her face. 

"Have you spoken to him at all? Since you got back from Volantis?" Margaery asked. 

"No." Sansa shook her head. 

Margaery sighed. "Oh well, let's just get this done." 

Sansa nodded, and went back to the living room. She began putting photos and knick knacks in a box, while Margaery packed dishes in the kitchen. She felt Sandor’s eyes on her every time he came back for more boxes, but he didn’t say anything and she didn’t look at him. 

Twenty minutes later, Tormund announced that both trucks were full. Sansa nodded, glancing around the apartment. They’d managed to pack most of hers and Lyanna’s belongings, and she was hiring movers to come for the furniture. 

“I’ll be down in a minute.” Sansa told Margaery and Tormund, turning away from them as they left and shut the door behind them. 

Sansa walked around the apartment once more, checking for anything she might’ve forgotten. When she was done, she slowly came back to the living room, her eyes falling once again on the couch. 

_"What you do is up to you."_ Ray's voice echoed in her head. 

A resolve set, and Sansa moved without fully thinking about what she was doing. In one quick move she whipped the quilt her mother had given her off the back of the couch, tossed aside the matching throw pillows, and started tugging the couch towards the front door. It got stuck in the doorframe, and Sansa climbed over the arm back into the apartment, pushing the back of the couch up so it would fit and shoving with all her might. 

It made a loud banging noise as it cleared the frame and dropped back onto the ground. Sansa heaved a deep breath, already winded, then shut the apartment door and started pushing the couch down the hall to the elevator. She made it to the lobby without incident, and ignored the curious looks and offers to help as she pushed the couch to the front door. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Margaery, Tormund, and Sandor turn to look at her as she tried to hold the front door open with one arm and pull the couch through with the other. Margaery hurried up the stairs and held the door, watching in confusion as Sansa pushed the couch down the steps. 

“Sansa, darling, what are you doing?” Margaery asked. 

Sansa ignored her, smiling slightly as she heard the wood splintering on impact with the ground. She hurried down the steps, grabbed the arm of the couch, and started pulling it towards the dumpster. Tormund and Sandor both moved forward to help, but faltered when Sansa glared at them. 

“Let her be.” Margaery said to them, though she looked confused and concerned. 

Margaery followed her at a distance, and stopped when Sansa reached the dumpster. She brushed her sweaty hair off her forehead, and realized she was crying again. She wiped angrily at her eyes, delivered a swift kick to the arm of the couch, splintering the wood, then turned away from it and walked back to Margaery. 

“Ready to go?” She asked as she walked by her friend. 

Sansa rode with Margaery, Tormund and Sandor each following behind them in their trucks, to her new apartment across town. They were silent on the drive, Sansa staring unseeingly out the window. She was grateful Margaery didn’t question her tantrum with the couch, because Sansa couldn’t have explained it if she wanted to. All she knew was that she didn’t ever want to look at it again. She would’ve set it on fire if she could’ve. 

They arrived at the new apartment, and Sansa walked ahead of the group to unlock the doors. The apartment was still completely empty, as she’d just got the keys that morning. Truthfully, she didn’t know if she was ready to sleep here yet and was hoping that Arya would let her stay a few more days. 

With a sigh, Sansa came back outside. She led Margaery and Tormund back to the apartment, but Sandor hung back, unloading the trucks and stacking bags and boxes on the ground. After a few trips, the trucks were empty, and Sandor hovered nervously beside them. 

“You going to help us, cunt?” Tormund called to him as he approached. 

A passerby gasped and clapped her hands over her sons ears, hurrying him away, and Sansa shook her head in annoyance. The neighbors would hate her already. 

Sandor glanced between Sansa and Tormund, then said, “If that’s alright with you, lit-- Sansa.” 

A lump rose in her throat, but she nodded her consent and quickly picked up another box and hurried inside. 

She missed him. She missed him so bad it physically hurt. How had she let herself get in this deep when she was never supposed to have feelings for him in the first place? How had she let herself fall in love with someone under these circumstances? How much easier would her life be now if she’d refused him when he came to the club to apologize after their first dance? And how could she stay away from him now that she knew what she’d been missing all this time?

_"What do you want?"_

Sansa dropped the box with a loud clatter in the kitchen, then hurried into her bedroom. She leaned against the wall next to the door and tried to catch her breath. 

What did she want? It had been days since her appointment with Ray, and she still didn't have an answer to that question. Not a reasonable answer, anyways. She wanted Ramsay gone. She wanted things back the way they were with Sandor. She wanted to be happy. 

Sansa sighed and pushed away from the wall, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hands again, then left the bedroom. Margaery was already unpacking her dishes and placing them in the cupboard, and Sandor and Tormund were moving things in. Sansa sighed and joined Margaery in the kitchen. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Margaery asked softly, glancing over her shoulder. 

Sansa gave a non committal hum and a half assed attempt at a smile, then turned away. Margaery sighed. 

“I’m for you, you know that, right?” Margaery’s voice was laden with concern. 

“I know, Marg.” Sansa said, looking back at her friend. “I just don’t know what I need.” 

Margaery gave her a sympathetic smile, then glanced towards the front door. 

“Sandor wants to talk to you.” Margaery lowered her voice and stepped closer. “He said you don’t have to, and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. So I offered to tell you.” 

Sansa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t want to talk to him?” Margaery asked, cocking her head. 

“No, I do…” Sansa trailed off. “I just don’t know what I want to say. Or what I want him to say.” 

Margaery patted her shoulder. “Well… we’re almost done here.” 

“I know.” Sansa sighed again, hugging herself and glancing at the front door. 

“You can always talk to him later.” Margaery offered with a small smile, then turned away and continued unpacking. 

_What do I want?_

“Alright, you lovely ladies,” Tormund’s voice boomed out a few minutes later as he came back into the apartment. “We’re all unloaded. Anything else you need?” He addressed the question to Sansa. 

She glanced at Margaery, who gave her a reassuring smile, then back at Tormund. 

“Yes. Um. Can you go get Sandor?” Sansa asked in a small voice. 

Tormund’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Sure.” He turned and left. 

Sansa turned to Margaery, who was bouncing on her feet with barely contained excitement. 

“Stop.” Sansa rolled her eyes. “I just want to know what he has to say, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Of course, of course.” Maragery waved her hand dismissively. “Do you want me to…?” 

“Go with Tormund.” Sansa motioned to the door. “We should talk alone.” 

Margaery gave her a dazzling smile, kissed her cheek, and bounced away towards the door. Sansa sighed and ran a hand through her hair, then turned and continued unpacking. Her ears strained for Sandor’s heavy footsteps, and her heart jumped to her throat when she heard them. 

“Hey.” His deep voice rumbled from behind her. 

She turned slowly to face him and wrapped her arms around herself. “Hi.” 

He stepped inside hesitantly, and started to close the door, then stopped and glanced at her. She nodded her approval, and Sandor shut the door, then leaned back against it. 

“Nice place.” He said after a long pause, gesturing to the room. 

“Thanks.” Sansa answered softly. 

They stared at each other for a long moment, the awkward tension growing by the second. 

“Um, Marg said you wanted to talk to me?” Sansa finally broke the silence. 

“Yeah.” Sandor cleared his throat and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. 

She leaned back against the counter, determined to wait for him to break the silence this time. He heaved a deep sigh, then raised his eyes back to hers. 

“I had a whole speech planned.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t remember it now.” 

“Oh.” Sansa nodded, shifting her feet uncomfortably. 

“You look good.” Sandor offered after another moment. “Did you enjoy… wherever you went?” 

“Yes.” Sansa answered. 

“Good. I’m glad.” Sandor answered. 

They fell into another awkward silence. Sansa regarded him curiously. She’d seen Sandor nervous before, but this was a whole different level. 

“Well… If that’s all…” Sansa pushed off the counter and turned away. 

“No! No, that’s not all.” Sandor stepped forward, then swore quietly and pushed a hand through his hair. 

Sansa turned back around and looked at him expectantly. This wasn’t at all how she imagined this conversation going. 

“I just-- fuck. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Sandor said finally, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m really sorry. For everything.” 

Sansa raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, but said nothing. 

“The way I acted with that… that little fucker, your uncle… I just-- fucking hell.” Sandor turned away from her, running his hands through his hair again. 

It was almost funny how flustered he got, and Sansa had to fight off a smile. 

“He sold you! He literally sold you, to that fucking creep, and I just-- I just fucking lost it, I lost my cool, and that’s not okay and I’m just really fucking sorry.” Sandor exhaled heavily and turned back to her, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “And the way I kept calling you, I just wanted you to understand that, that I’d never-- I wouldn’t-- God damn it! I just wanted to apologize for what I did, and I shouldn’t have been calling you like that. I just wanted you to know that I was sorry and that I care about you, but I should’ve just given you space. And I’m really fucking sorry for that, too.” 

Sansa bit her lip as she appraised him. 

“I can’t believe how much I’m fucking this up.” Sandor sighed and raked his hands through his hair again. “No, I take that back. I do believe it. I just…” He swore again. 

“Do you understand now, why I’m afraid to have you around my daughter?” Sansa asked softly. 

A pained look crossed Sandor’s face like she’d struck him, and hung his head. 

“Yeah… I get it. And I’m sorry for that, too.” He raised his head slightly to meet her gaze. 

“What I want…” Sansa spoke slowly and took a step forward, “will always be second to my daughters safety.” 

Sandor nodded. 

“I want to figure things out with us, Sandor.” She whispered. 

Sandor’s head snapped up, and she saw the hope flash behind his eyes before he schooled his expression. 

“But we can’t do that if I don’t trust you. And right now, I just don’t. I’m sorry.” Sansa finished.

“Don’t apologize to me, little bird.” Sandor replied at once. He stepped forward and began to reach for her, but he stopped and clenched his fist, letting it fall slowly to his side. 

“I don’t expect you to wait around for me to decide what I want.” Sansa looked away from him as she spoke, and crossed her arms. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. The trial with Ramsay won’t be for months, and if I lose, I’m leaving again.” 

“I could go with you.” Sandor offered quietly, and Sansa’s head snapped back around to look at him. “Everyone’s afraid of me. No one would hurt you again.” 

Sansa chuckled nervously and took a step back. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” She tried to pass it off as a joke, but her voice trembled. 

“I’m being serious, little bird.” Sandor seized his opportunity and walked towards her. He stopped an arms length away and extended his hands, leaving the option open to her whether she would touch him. She looked from his hands to his face and back again, biting her lip. “We could be a family. You, me, and Lyanna. We could go anywhere you want. North, south, it doesn’t fucking matter. I’d keep you safe.” 

Sansa’s eyes filled with tears again as she raised her gaze again from Sandor’s hands to his face. His hands slowly dropped back to his sides again, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“If, um… If that’s what you want.” He added, looking away from her. 

“I don’t know what I want.” Sansa answered truthfully. 

Sandor grimaced like he was in physical pain. “I know it’s not that easy.” He offered quietly after a moment. “But if you want me, Sansa, I’m yours.” 

“You work on your shit,” Sansa spoke quietly after a moment, “and I’ll work on mine. We’ll figure it out after the trial.” 

Sandor took a step closer and nearly closed the distance between them. His hand lifted like he meant to cup her cheek, but stopped an inch away, hovering over her skin. He searched her face, and Sansa searched his. She didn’t know what she was looking for in his eyes, but he sighed and stepped back, dropping his hand before she could find it. 

“After the trial.” He agreed with a nod. 

And with that, Sandor Clegane turned on his heel and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack. Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Shit's been cray. In the last two months I moved, started a new job, and quit drinking, so things have been pretty wild for me. I had some serious writers block and no time to write, plus I've honestly done most of my writing in the past while I was drunk, so writing sober is a whole new thing. 
> 
> No promises on long it'll be until the next chapter, but I have some ideas stewing and I'm excited about this fic once again! Hopefully I'll be able to update soon. 
> 
> As always, please review and let me know what you think!! Hope you're all staying safe.


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